


Chasing Heaven

by biremus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Battle of the Bands, Established dorcas meadowes/marlene mckinnon, Established james potter/lily evans, Friends to Lovers, Gay Remus Lupin, Getting Together, Indie Music, M/M, Marauders, Multi, Mutual Pining, Pansexual Sirius Black, The Maraders - Freeform, dorlene, indie band, indie band au, jily, pining remus, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2018-11-07 15:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11062257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biremus/pseuds/biremus
Summary: 'Sooner or later we'll get steady jobs and forget what we came here for'The Weird Sisters are the most famous band in the world, so when they announce a nationwide talent search to headline their new music festival, there’s no way that James is going to let his friends turn it down. The Marauders could have been in with a shot too, if their head songwriter, Sirius, wasn’t facing a crippling loss of inspiration, and their frontman, Remus, wasn’t facing a crisis of his own… Non-magic band AU





	1. Spiral

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the music of [Flyte](https://www.youtube.com/user/FlyteBandVEVO/featured), please give them a listen if you enjoy!

Remus Lupin was only 18 when he first met Sirius Black.

Of course, he had also met James Potter, Peter Pettigrew and Lily Evans on the same day, but somehow they never sprang to mind as quickly as Sirius, who had made his astounding entrance to their university halls dressed already in his pyjamas, carrying an inflatable dinosaur.

Sirius Black was an art student – all long hair and scruffy jeans and leather jackets. He smelled like wet dog and motor oil, and he had a smile like the sun. He played the bass guitar – he insisted that a regular guitar was far too mainstream, and Remus had pretended to be offended, he himself being a guitarist and avid songwriter. Remus studied English literature, and his parents seemed insistent on pushing him into a career as an editor for some poncy book publisher in London, but Remus had other plans. He had always had other plans, ever since he was a kid.

Remus wanted to start a band.

He had never told anyone his ambition, not before Sirius, he had always found it far too childish and embarrassing. He had been in several at secondary school – playing covers of Arctic Monkeys and Coldplay songs at talent shows and local pubs – but he had always been holding out for university. That was where all good bands met.

When Sirius had heard he had grinned. He and James had been best friends since they had attended an expensive boarding school as kids. They both came from rich families – Sirius’ was aristocratic, an old French house who apparently still married for business (Sirius had told Remus that his mother was Korean, and had married his father to secure a deal between his family and theirs. Sirius would never tell Remus what his family sold, and hardly ever spoke about them anymore – he hadn’t talked to them in years). James’ father ran a business selling hair styling products, which had taken off in James’ youth, meaning that he had grown up in the lap of luxury. James was possibly the richest person that Remus had ever met; he studied marketing and always went to lectures in a suit, and was up at the crack of dawn every day to jog for three hours.

James was probably the least relatable member of the band, but he kept them all together – he was the backbone, connecting them all and keeping them in time. It made sense to Remus that he was the drummer.

For a while it was only the three of them, practicing in the kitchen on Friday and Saturday afternoons when they had no lectures and no one was trying to sleep. They wrote original songs and played them at the union in competitions, but never got very far. They always felt like there was something missing from their line-up, and when they found out that their flatmate Peter played the keyboard, they realised what that was.

Finally, their line-up was complete. Remus as the frontman, his voice as soft as the oversized jumpers he wore and his lyrics as poetic as the books he studied for his degree. He played lead guitar and sang, finding that when he was on stage all of the anxiety he felt daily dissipated, and he suddenly felt lighter and free in the spotlight. Sirius was the bassist, brooding and moody like his basslines. He always insisted that the bassist was the sexiest member of any band, and so that was where he felt he belonged – Remus didn’t feel the need to argue with that. James played drums, but also wrote songs on the side. They were mostly about this one girl he had been pining over for the majority of his university career, who had lived in the room across from his. After James and Lily had started dating he had played them to her. She hated them all. Peter made up the quartet, playing keyboards and rhythm guitar, whichever was needed. He was a short, chubby boy with a pale face, and he was studying to be a primary school teacher, which he seemed to be far more invested in than the band but nevertheless, he was an integral part. Each of the boys were. If any one of them left, the rest would surely fall apart.

It had been several years since they had met, and since then they had cycled through many names, finally settling on one that they believed captured their youths perfectly.

The Marauders were fresh out of university; broke and without connections, but eager to make their name in the music scene.

They lived together – all five of them – Lily having been made an honorary member and (reluctant) manager of the band on account of the amount of time she spent with them. Remus wondered if she regretted agreeing to date James, seeing as he had roped her into this crazy endeavour. Nevertheless, she persisted no matter how exasperating she found the boys to be, and begrudgingly used her accounting degree to manage the band’s finances.

“If you hate doing this so much then why are you still here?” Sirius asked her one afternoon, while the five of them lounged on beanbags in the living room/kitchen/peter’s bedroom. Their flat technically only had three bedrooms, but they had managed to fit a futon in between the fridge and the sofa so that Peter had a place to sleep. He had gotten the short straw, having to sleep in the communal area because, as Sirius had said, Peter was the least likely one to get laid.

Lily tutted, looking up at James before turning back to give Sirius a pointed look, her lips pursed. “I’m doing this because if I left you to your own devices, you would spend all your money on a bouncy castle and then starve to death.”

James let out a hearty chuckle from where he sat on the opposite side of Lily, his arm draped lazily over her shoulder. “She’s got a point, mate.” He said, raising his eyebrows.

They had been sat there for almost an hour listening to Lily complain about how much time she had to spend budgeting for the boys and how little time this left her to try to find a job anywhere else. James had been listening attentively, nodding and encouraging her as often as Sirius was criticizing her. Remus hadn’t been paying much attention, playing his acoustic guitar in the corner of the room and working out a new riff, while Peter lazed on his futon and gave him feedback.

Sirius was pouting – he always had been a drama queen – and crossed his arms across his chest, looking slightly ridiculous, swallowed up by the giant blue beanbag. “I would _not_ buy a bouncy castle,” he said, “I’d buy a karaoke machine so I could finally show up Remus.”

Remus stopped playing at that, smirking and looking over at the bassist. “There’s a reason you only sing backup, dearest,” he called, his voice mocking sweetness, “we want the audience to actually buy our vinyl.”

“Speaking of reckless spending,” Lily piped up, pulling her accounting notebook from her bag and addressing the entire group, “who’s fucking smart-arse idea was it to press your EP onto vinyl? No one even buys your CDs, why did you ever think that getting records was a good idea?”

“That was James.” Peter said absently, not looking away from his phone screen, which he was studying carefully, holding it above his face where he lay. James shrugged.

“Our target market is the hipster kids with those shitty record players from urban outfitters, he explained, “they love that shit.”

Lily huffed, and scribbled down some numbers on the page in her notebook before looking back up at James. “Could your dad lend you some money, maybe?”

This was a topic of conversation that often came up. It was a well-known fact that James’ family were multi-millionaires, and that back at their home in India the Potters owned an entire penthouse apartment manned with ten staff. How James had ended up with no money in a tiny London apartment was beyond Remus, but James seemed too scared of his father to ask him for any cash.

“Dad’s already paying for this place,” James shrugged, “I wouldn’t want to ask him for anything else.”

Sirius sighed, uncrossing his arms and throwing them up in the air as he spoke. “You need to grow a backbone mate! Your dad is minted; he can spare a couple of hundred to cover a run of records.”

James squirmed uncomfortably in the beanbag, sinking a little further into it and taking his arm from around Lily’s shoulders. She patted his knee and gave him a comforting smile, before crossing out one of her notes on the page and slipping the notebook back into her bag.

“Oh well,” She said, “I’m sure we can make it back with tickets and merch sales over the next month.”

“I really do admire your optimism, Lils.” Remus said, going back to the riff he was working on, trying not to think about how much debt the band had racked up in the past few months since leaving university. The band made very little money; mostly playing free gigs in the city for charities or open mic nights to try and get their music out there. The Marauders had a few loyal fans, and a few hundred Twitter followers, but that was nothing. They were still waiting on their first paid booking.

Sirius scoffed, crossing his arms again, the pout still sitting purposefully on his lips. Remus eyed him carefully, starting to get sick of his attitude. Sirius always got touchy when money came up, probably on account of the fact that he had used to be rich and now was barely getting by, having to work at a fast food restaurant five days a week. Still, his attitude was starting to rub Remus the wrong way, and he caught his eye, giving the bassist a sharp shake of his head as a way of telling him to lighten up. Sirius stuck out his tongue in response. Remus rolled his eyes.

“What are you working on, Moony?” Sirius asked pointedly, putting on a false air of positivity and giving Remus his best winning smile. Sirius had given Remus the nickname during their first year of university, after Remus had had a few too many ciders and mooned the rest of their halls on a dare. Remus hated it, but the others had dumb nicknames too so he tolerated it. At least it wasn’t as embarrassing as Peter’s.

Remus didn’t stop his strumming, moving his fingers methodically through a scale to try to work out a more suitable note to fit at the end of his riff. “What do you think I’m working on?” He smirked, “’S a new song, isn’t it? Someone’s got to write them, seeing as you haven’t had any ‘inspiration’ for the last year.”

Sirius tutted, his fake grin only faltering for a second, however. “Well, you see, Moonbeam, it’s quite difficult to get inspired when all you do all day is flip burgers.”

“I’m sensing a lot of anger, Sirius.” Peter interjected, putting his phone down on the futon beside him and propping himself up on one elbow. “Maybe we should talk this through?”

“Wormy, are you using _primary school_ methods to try to calm me down?” Sirius looked hurt – offended, even – that Peter would stoop so low as to use his degree against his true friend and bandmate.

Peter raised his eyebrows and spoke in a dry, flat voice, “Yes.” He said, “It’s how you’re supposed to deal with _children_.” He sighed, sitting up properly and picking his phone up again, checking the time on the screen before addressing the group, “Speaking of, I’ve got to go do a lesson plan – they want me teaching maths tomorrow.”

“God help them.” Sirius said, “Peter teaching maths? Didn’t he fail his compulsory stats course?”

Peter shot him a glare as he stood, picking up his satchel from in front of the fridge. “Nine year olds don’t tend to do hypothesis testing, Padfoot.”

***

The walls in ‘The Marauder Apartment’ were far too thin, in Remus’ humble opinion. Currently, he was attempting to finish a blog post for the book review site he was working for, but he couldn’t concentrate over the sound of Sirius swearing profusely in his room. Remus sighed, snapping shut the notebook he had filled with notes on _The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet_ and minimising the tab on his laptop, before scraping his desk chair back along the exposed wood flooring and standing up, stretching.  It wasn’t the first time the construction of their cheap London apartment had disturbed his work – James and Lily’s room was next to his.

Remus listened carefully, frowning. It sounded as if Sirius was trying to play the guitar, which he had learnt despite telling Remus that it was far too mainstream four years ago, but kept misplaying the chords. Remus thought he heard him singing a tune a few times, his voice low and gravely and making Remus feel things he really ought not to still feel about a boy he had been pining over since he was 18. Remus had fallen for Sirius the moment he had laid eyes on him – as had most people, to be honest; Sirius was ‘Heath Ledger in _10 Things I Hate About You_ ’ levels of hot – but, though he knew that the bassist was possibly the most pansexual person to ever be pansexual, he hadn’t nearly the amount of self-esteem needed to ask someone that pretty on a date. It didn’t bother him much anymore; not unless Sirius was doing something particularly attractive, like the summer he took to wearing crop tops, or when he wore those leather trousers that were far too tight.

Remus left his room, hanging outside by Sirius’s closed bedroom door for a few moments, still listening to the chords he was playing. The song wasn’t actually too bad; it was just Sirius that was messing it up. Remus knocked loudly on the door three times, and heard Sirius swear again loudly before the clunk of his guitar against the wooden floor as he put it down.

“What?” He said irritably as he pulled open the door, a scowl on his lips. Remus raised his eyebrows, fixing Sirius with an exasperated look.

“Can I come in?” Remus asked, and Sirius pulled a face.

“Have you been listening to me?” He asked.

Remus shook his head, “Not really,” he said. Sirius looked at him pointedly, and Remus sighed, “Okay yes, but it’s kind of unavoidable in this place. Do you maybe want some help?”

Sirius’ face cycled through several expressions so quickly that Remus wasn’t entirely sure if he could identify them all. His lips had lifted into a smile involuntarily, at which point Sirius had forced a frown, which then disappeared into a look of reluctance.

“I guess I should say yes,” he shrugged, before pointing a finger at Remus’ face, “but we all know I’m the John Lennon of this partnership.”

“Is that because of my boyish good looks?” Remus smirked, “or because I write better songs?”

Sirius fixed him with a mock glare, lifting an eyebrow. “Paul McCartney wrote _Yellow Submarine_ , he’s irredeemable.”

Remus rolled his eyes, pushing past Sirius and into his bedroom, which was a complete and utter tip, as usual. His bedsheets were lying in a heap on the floor by the foot of his bed, where at least three days’ worth of crockery was balanced precariously on the linen. There were several beer cans and burger wrappers scattered haphazardly on the desk, which was also currently housing his work uniform. Sirius’ acoustic guitar was leaning against the bed in a way that was particularly unstable, and Remus picked it up, handing it to Sirius before hopping onto the mattress, sitting cross-legged, watching his friend expectantly.

Sirius blinked at him, holding the guitar by the neck and standing in the centre of the room. “What?” He asked shrugging. Remus indicated his head towards the instrument, and Sirius looked down at it blankly for a moment, before making an ‘oh’ of realisation, drawing out the syllable.

He turned back and shut the bedroom door, before pulling the office chair from where it was tucked under the desk and spinning it around and sitting on it, propping the guitar on his knee. He positioned his fingers on the fret board but did not start strumming, and instead looked up at Remus sheepishly.

“This is really shit, just by the way.” He said. Remus waved a hand dismissively,

“Okay, John Lennon.”

Sirius started strumming, his fingers moving clumsily over the frets and catching the wrong strings, but Remus could tell that if he or Pete were to play the same thing it would have sounded great. Sirius had never been particularly good at anything other than the bass, but Remus had attempted to teach him a few things over the years.

Sirius started humming a melody line over the chord progression he had been playing. It wasn’t perfect, and a few of the notes clashed, but eventually Remus found himself humming along, making small corrections as they went. By the time Sirius had got to the end, they had a pretty solid base for a song.

“Yeah,” Sirius said, cringing a little, “as I said, it’s not that great.”

Remus tutted, shaking his head, “I like it – it has potential, anyway.”

There was no point sugar coating it – the song needed work – but Remus wasn’t lying. With input from the others and some good lyrics, Remus could see Sirius’ song becoming a single.

It was strange that Sirius’ muse seemed to have died over the past few months – he was previously the band’s main songwriter, churning out beautiful ballads and indie-pop bops faster than most songwriters could ever wish to. Since Easter, however, he had been in a slump, writing only three songs over the two months that had passed, and only one that the rest of the band had even considered adding to the setlist. This song was progress. It was hope.

Sirius was smiling at Remus, still holding the guitar on his knee, his fingers still on the frets. “I had lyrics too but,” he trailed off, shrugging, and paused for a few moments, “I don’t know if they’re ready yet.”

“I can help with them too? You know that’s my favourite thing to do.” Remus linked his hands in his lap, raising his shoulders up to his ears briefly. Sirius shook his head, laughing.

“Nah, Moons,” He said, “I can work them out on my own.”

Remus wiggled his eyebrows, “Ooh,” he extended the vowel, “private, are they?”

Sirius laughed, loud and short like a bark. “Yeah, definitely,” his voice was thick with sarcasm, “they’re all about you, Moony.”

Remus rolled his eyes again – sometimes he felt like, with Sirius and James around, he lived in a perpetual state of exasperation – and fixed Sirius with a look to match his own; a mocking lop-sided smirk.

“Obviously,” he said, his own voice just as laden with sarcasm, “Just as mine are all written about you, honey.”

Sirius laughed, and Remus joined in, perfectly masking the fact that he was absolutely a huge pathetic sap who did write at least half of his songs about the bassist, who had most definitely never looked at him in any way other than as a friend. Remus tried not to think about that too much. Sometimes it got painful.

“What’s all this ruckus?” The door burst open as James made his grand entrance, his arms wide and head held high as if he was about to recite some Shakespearian monologue to a theatre of people, as opposed to just addressing his two bandmates in a grubby shit-hole of a bedroom. Lily entered almost completely unnoticed behind him, her arms crossed, but a smile on her face as if she was simply basking in James’ idiocy for a moment. Peter brought up the rear, looking annoyed – Remus suspected that James had dragged him away from work to attend what was surely going to be a very exciting band meeting.

“I come bearing exciting news and –” He paused for dramatic effect, holding up a finger, “- an opportunity for stardom.”

Sirius looked over to Remus and their eyes locked for a moment. It was the type of look that Remus had seen Lily and her friend Marlene share when James said…. Well, anything. James did not seem to notice, but continued on with what seemed to be a very well-rehearsed monologue.

“I am sure that you are all aware with the platinum selling, Glastonbury headlining, world touring band: The Weird Sisters?” James held his arms out, and stared at Remus expectantly. Remus gave him a little nod, acknowledging that, yes, he did in fact know who the most famous indie rock band in the world were. James grinned before continuing once more. “Just this afternoon, said superstar rock band have posted _this_ –” He produced an A4 printed piece of paper from his jeans pocket, unfolding it and holding it out to each of the members in turn, not giving any of them long enough to read it. “- on their website.”

Peter tutted at James, reaching around Lily to take the flyer from the taller boy’s hands, skimming it quickly before addressing James, a frown on his features. “So they’re organising a festival, so what?”

“Oh, Wormy, my dear boy, so _everything_.” James gave the room his best dazzling grin, his whitened teeth almost glinting. “The headlining spot on the Sunday will be decided by a nationwide battle of the bands.”

Realisation suddenly dawned over everyone in the room, and there was silence for a few moments, before Sirius laughed.

“ _Us_? Seriously, mate, you think _we’re_ good enough to win that?”

Remus was rather taken aback, but not entirely shocked by Sirius’ immediate negativity. There had been something up with him for a while now, but he just shrugged whenever he was asked about it. Still, at the current moment, Remus was leaning more towards Sirius’ point of view than James’.

“Of course we are!” James said, as if the rest of the band were crazy for doubting them for even a second. “Listen, men,” James was taking on his old army general persona again, something he often did when he was faced with opposition, “we have the talent, the determination and, goddamn it, we have the _balls_ to take down every single other band who dares step on a stage that we have graced. I believe in you all, even more than I believe in myself.”

“Bloody hell.” Remus heard Lily murmur, looking at James with a look of shock that made him laugh. Sometimes James’ pure, unabashed narcissism was hilarious.

Sirius still didn’t seem convinced, however. “That’s all well and good,” he said, “but when was the last time we sold out any gigs? We’ve never played for an audience bigger than two hundred! What if we do win? Do you want Moony to have a panic attack on stage in front of twenty thousand muddy strangers in a field?”

Remus looked at Sirius, incredulous. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was angry or touched.

“I’m sure Moony can make his own decisions.” Peter said, fixing Sirius with a glare.

“I mean,” Remus said, quiet but assertive, “he has a point. I can deal with small crowds, Prongs, but I don’t know about an audience that big.”

James was nodding. Remus could see from his expression that he was trying to come up with some way to insist that they participate without sounding indelicate. His shoulders had sagged slightly and he looked down at the flyer in his hand with a lost expression, as if reading it would give him some more guidance. Remus felt a shot of anxiety in his stomach and spoke up again.

“I guess, I could do it,” he said, pausing, “maybe.”

Sirius turned to look at Remus, raising an eyebrow and speaking in a low voice. “Are you sure, Moons?”

Sirius’ face was so close to Remus’ that he found it difficult to find words. He looked at Sirius for a few moments, his mouth hanging open a little, before shaking his head and fixing him with a smile. “Yeah, I’m good, Pads.”

Sirius looked back at James, meeting the taller boy’s hazel eyes with his own of grey. He nodded. “If Remus is in, then I’m in.”

A smile cracked across James’ face. “Brilliant!” He said, before turning to face Peter and Lily behind him. The former’s brow was furrowed, and he appeared to still be be in consideration, but Lily was smiling.

“I think it’s an excellent idea,” Lily said, “it would be great publicity – even if you don’t win you could get a tonne of exposure. You could even get a record deal.” She shrugged, stating the last sentence casually, but watching James with a smirk as he practically jumped for joy.

“Oh my god.” He breathed, his pearly white grin now so big it was a wonder that it even fit on his thin face anymore. He looked out into the middle distance for a few moments, and Remus could almost see his visions of his future reflected in his glasses. James whipped around, facing Peter directly, “Please Pete!”

Peter pulled a face, “I have work.” He muttered, but then looked up at James’ face and seemed to melt a little. “I suppose I could – it’s over the summer, after all.”

James slapped Peter on the arm. “Good man!” He turned back to face everyone once more with a flourish, holding up the crumpled A4 paper above his head as if it was some kind of beacon. “Tomorrow, we rehearse, but today, men…” He paused again for dramatic effect. “Today, we party.”

***

“I’m just saying – if she was up for it I one hundred percent would.”

Remus nodded in response to Marlene, who was slurring her words slightly, draped across the sofa next to him like some sort of octopus with several extra limbs. Her blonde hair was falling out of its high bun and there was a wine stain on her white button up shirt, and Remus decided that now was probably the time to take the glass out of her hand. She barely even noticed him lifting it out of her fingers.

“That’s nice, Marls.” He hummed, putting the wine down on the coffee table in front of them, watching her carefully. He was ready to bolt the moment she looked like she was about to vomit.

“It would be nice, wouldn’t it?” Marlene mused. Remus frowned.

“The idea of a threesome with Lily and Dorcas doesn’t really do the same for me as it does for you, Marls.”

Marlene scoffed, before her head lolled forward so that she could look at her now empty hand. “Wait,” she said, creasing her brow, “did I already finish my wine?”

“Yes.” Remus sighed, before patting Marlene on the leg fondly. “I’m just going to find… well, anyone who’s less drunk than you.”

Marlene snorted. “That’s fair.” She pointed a finger at Remus, who raised an eyebrow at her sceptically. “If you see my useless girlfriend tell her to get her arse over here so I can make out with her please.”

The party had been a blur of loud music, people Remus hardly knew, and brightly coloured shots of substances that smelled vaguely toxic being forced into Remus’ hands by Sirius at any given opportunity. To say that James had announced the gathering at such short notice, an awful lot of their collective friend groups had managed to get there on time, and now The Marauders’ tiny flat was flooded with hordes of people in every room. Remus couldn’t even get through his bedroom doorway.

He was leaning against the kitchen island, pouring himself a rum and coke, when Remus felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look, and there was Sirius, again, holding two jelly shots of bright red cherry vodka between his fingers precariously, and swaying slightly. Remus laughed at him, taking one of the shots from Sirius so there was less chance of a jelly-related carpet emergency, and raised an eyebrow.

“Having fun?” He had to raise his voice over the music that was being blasted from James’ expensive speaker system. They were lucky that the downstairs neighbours were away, or they could have been getting an angry visit from their landlord.

Sirius spent a few moments trying to extract the jelly shot from the glass with his fingers – it really was a sight to behold – while nodding, not really looking at Remus as he did so. He held the red goo for a few moments before putting it in his mouth, holding his palm up to his face and making eye contact with Remus as he slurped the jelly, looking very much like one of the primary school children that Peter so often compared him to. After Sirius swallowed, he gave Remus a grin.

“I kissed Shacklebolt!”

Remus blinked, shocked, “Shack?”

Sirius nodded, looking very proud of himself. Remus had wanted to make out with Kingsley Shacklebolt from the first time he had gone to one of James’ football matches and seen the man – all muscles and dark eyes and the deepest voice that Remus had ever heard. It did things to him.

“Fuck, dude, I’m so jealous.” Remus admitted, “I thought he was straight?”

“Not after five Jagerbombs in half an hour, he’s not.” Sirius leaned a little closer to Remus, and he could smell a lingering scent of sugary alcopops in his hair. Sirius lowered his voice, giggling as he spoke, “he grabbed my ass.”

Remus raised his eyebrows, feeling increasingly uncomfortable but still, more comfortable than he would have done if Sirius was this close to his face sober. “I don’t blame him, it’s a good ass.”

Sirius winked, rocking back so that he was no longer on his tip toes, his face now painfully far from Remus’. “You _know_ it.”

The night continued on in a similarly messy manner, and Remus had to pull several couples out of his bed on numerous occasions, all in differing states of undress. Peter was becoming more and more angry as the evening went on, which was understandable, seeing as he had no bedroom to retreat to, and James had dropped three jelly shots on his pillow by accident. Remus was ready to call it a night as soon as he had finished a regretful make out session with Frank Longbottom, signalling to James across the room with a finger across his neck that it was time to kill this bitch before anything worse happened.

James switched off Mr Brightside mid-chorus; an action that was met with a cacophony of boos and abusive yells, all of which Remus felt were rather appropriate. Sirius, in particular, seemed practically _offended_ , and Remus heard him shout above the others.

“The first actual banger of the night and you turn it off? You’re a prick, Prongs!”

 James cleared his throat, hopping up on top of the kitchen island and addressing everyone like a royal, his shoulders back, a wine glass in his hand like a goblet. “Alright, you ruffians,” He projected, catching everyone’s attention and causing a hush to fall over them all, “time to fuck off.”

 There was another collective groan, but James only held up a finger, “Ah, ah, ah,” he shook his head, “it’s gone three, if you’ve not got off with someone already, it’s not going to happen. Now, get out of my house you filthy animals.”

***

The next day was predictably slow. Remus didn’t know why he hadn’t expected to be so damn hungover the day after such a party, and he cursed himself for not thinking it through as he nursed his headache, swallowing some paracetamol dry before making his way out into the kitchen with all the energy of a partially squashed slug. Peter was asleep on his futon, so Remus stepped around him to get to the fridge, opening it and looking forlornly at the contents, feeling his stomach slosh angrily in response to the thought of a bacon sandwich.

He shook his head and closed the door again, moving over to the sink and grabbing a clean glass from the draining board. By the looks of it James had already been up and cleaned the flat, and probably run 10k, all by the time Remus had managed to get his sorry head out from under his duvet. Sometimes his friend really did make him feel inadequate. Remus filled up the pint glass with water from the tap and downed it, before pulling a face as his stomach growled angrily at him. Remus looked down at it for a moment as if to say ‘it’s for your own good, you know’, before filling up the pint glass again and trudging back to his bedroom, his brown dressing gown billowing out behind him in much too grand a manner for how run down he felt.

The door opposite Remus’ opened just as Remus was about to disappear back into his cool, dark cave, and Sirius poked his head around the doorframe, his hair a wild mane and his shirt, somehow, absent. Not that Remus noticed.

“Is the coast clear?” Sirius said, his voice a shadow of its former self, croaky and broken in odd places. His eyes had dark bags. Remus felt like he looked like Sirius felt.

“Yeah,” He answered shortly, even the low volume of his voice making his head pound.

Sirius nodded, and emerged fully into the corridor, wearing nothing but his boxers (again, not that Remus noticed). “Good, I don’t need Mr Blue Sky and his infuriating lack of hangover chirping to me at this ungodly hour.”

“It’s two in the afternoon, Padfoot.”

Sirius waved a hand at Remus as if to discredit what he had said, and Remus sighed. “I’m going back to bed – try not to trip over Pete.”

“Why, ‘s he dead?”

“His shell is in front of the fridge, but I think his spirit rolled underneath it or something, he’s out for the count.”

Sirius laughed, but then clutched his head, stopping abruptly. He fixed Remus with a look, “I’m too hungover for jokes _or_ metaphors, Moons.”

“Fair,” Remus raised an eyebrow, “as am I.” He gave Sirius a nod, before retreating into his bedroom, ever grateful for his decision to buy blackout curtains.

He crawled back under his duvet and tried to sort through the events of the previous night, slotting them into order as soon as they popped up in his head. He knew for a fact that he had kissed Frank Longbottom, which had explained the five texts he had received from his old lecture buddy, Alice Prewett, calling him things that he was far too English to ever repeat. He had replied telling her that she really wasn’t missing out – that boy’s tongue was like a washing machine.

He remembered dancing to Gold by Spandau Ballet with Sirius, the two of them holding hands and twirling the other under their arms. Remus had kept getting tangled under Sirius’ arm on account of him being almost an entire foot shorter than Remus, but the two of them had laughed it off and continued regardless. It was a nice memory, but Remus felt guilty reliving it, knowing that it meant more to him than it did to his friend. His totally platonic bud. His pal, who had no interest in him romantically whatsoever.

He really had to get over this.

Remus brought his hands up to his face and rubbed his closed eyes with the heels of his palms. He groaned, before sitting up once more and taking his phone from his bedside table. Squinting against the backlight, he unlocked his phone and opened his messaging app, pressing Marlene’s name and typing out a quick message to her. Marlene had been in the room next to Remus in first year, and she was the only person to _officially_ know about just how far Remus had fallen for Sirius.

It was pretty fucking far. Head first into a bottomless hell-pit of despair.

***

_“My songs are NOT about Sirius” to Marlene GAYkinnon_

_R - help me marls we danced last night im filled with regret_

_M - Oh how shameful! You danced! Whatever will the press think?_

_“My songs are NOT about Sirius” changed Marlene McKinnon’s nickname to The Worst™_

_M - Well, that’s just rude_

_R - its your own fault ur supposed to help me_

_M - What is there to help with? You danced, it’s no big deal_

_R - i promised myself i wouldnt do shit like that anymore tho_

_M - Well, then you just need to follow your own rules better. This isn’t a problem, Remus, your hangover is just telling you it is._

_R - but like……………………………it is a problem tho_

_M - Why?_

_M - I also hope you imagined me doing a really big sigh before that last message_

_R - its a problem because hes cute and i want to kiss him and dancing with him is just a dumb way to indulge myself_

_M - I guess I can’t argue with that. Sorry I didn’t stop you, bro_

_R - its cool, you could barely stand up lmao_

_“My songs are NOT about Sirius” changed Marlene McKinnon’s nickname to Maybe Not The Worst™_

_M - Sorry about the bathmat BTW_

_R - what did u do_

_Marlene McKinnon changed her own nickname to Definitely The Worst™_


	2. We Are The Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like this chapter - it was a bit of a bitch to write but I got it done eventually!

Two weeks and one new bathmat later, the Marauders and Lily were preparing for the impending battle of the bands heats – the first of which was occurring in the next few days, much to Remus’ increasing terror. He had thought that he was okay with the idea of he and his friends being catapulted face first into the public eye, but as Sirius came home from work one evening, waving a copy of NME above his head excitedly, he thought he may just have made an error.

“They mention us _by name_!” Sirius was shouting as he ran down the corridor and towards the living room, where Remus lazed on the sofa scrolling down his Twitter feed. He heard James and Lily’s bedroom door slam into the wall as it swung open with such intense force.

“ _What_?” James was in the living room less than two seconds later, which was rather impressive, his glasses slightly askew and his cheeks tinged a little darker than usual. “What did they _say_?”

Sirius was panting, seemingly having run home, and pulled off his baseball cap – branded with the burger company’s logo – before placing the magazine down on the coffee table in front of the other two boys.

“Should we not wait for Pete?” Remus asked, a little sceptically. He had noticed that James and Sirius often just ploughed on with their plans, only rarely briefing Remus and almost never Peter. It wasn’t surprising that Peter often felt like less of a member of the band.

“He’ll be at work for _hours_ yet, Moons.” Sirius waved a hand dismissively, flicking open the first page of the magazine and leafing through until he reached a double page spread, the bright cartoonish title proclaiming ‘ _Meet the unknown hopefuls in with a chance to headline The Order of the Phoenix’_.

“Oh my god.” Remus heard James mutter under his breath, and watched the boy take off his glasses and wipe them feverishly on his t-shirt, before pushing them back onto his nose and taking the magazine from the table.

He scanned the page for a few moments, his eyes scrolling back and forth over the columns of writing, until he squealed. “Here we are! ‘The Marauders, a promising four-piece indie-pop outfit from South London, have a host of fun hits. They’re set to make waves in the first heat on the 10th of June at Brixton O2 Academy. Follow them on twitter @themarauders.’” James lowered the magazine, the smile wobbling a little at the edges, but it persisted. “They said we’re gonna make waves!”

Sirius pulled a face, “They said we’re _fun_ ,” he shuddered, “like a Saturday morning cartoon or… a breakfast cereal with too much sugar.”

“They also said we were promising, though.” Remus pointed a finger at Sirius, who was taking his hair out of the ponytail he had to put it in for work. Sirius shrugged at him in response, and Remus raised an eyebrow. “That’s got us a little publicity anyway. We might get a few more followers, if we’re lucky.”

“Yeah, along with a hundred other bands featured in that article.” Sirius put his hat down on the table and his hair tie inside it, before collapsing onto the sofa next to Remus. All the excitement from when he had first entered with the magazine had gone. Remus gave him a concerned look, but Sirius just shook his head. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, we only have like… two songs on our YouTube right now.”

“And they _are_ our most fun ones.” James wiggled his eyebrows as he fell onto the sofa on the opposite side of Remus, shooting Sirius his best winning smile. Sirius scowled at him.

“I guess this is what I get for agreeing for us to be indie-pop instead of punk.”

Remus patted Sirius’ knee in a mocking attempt to comfort him, “there there, Pads.” Remus raised an eyebrow, “one day we’ll be famous enough for you to leave the band amongst controversy and start a solo career, breaking all the Jirius shippers’ hearts.”

Sirius barked a laugh, and Remus felt a small pang of triumph in his chest as he always did when he amused Sirius. James was laughing too. “As if they’d ship me and Padfoot.”

Remus shot James a knowing look, “you’d be surprised, Prongs, they’ll ship anything. You’re forgetting I read teen fiction for a living.”

Sirius shot a look at James and then shuddered, pulling a face that would have been at home on the face of someone who had just taken a poorly judged bite of a lemon. “James is my brother, that’s so weird.”

“Not in blood, though, and that’s all that counts.” Remus looked off into the middle distance for a few moments, suddenly getting flashbacks to his Tumblr days. “Honestly, sometimes that doesn’t even stop them.”

James and Sirius both looked around at him in unison, their mouths hanging open in identical looks of shock. Remus gave them a shrug, and James shivered.

“I’m gonna go show this to Lils,” James said, scooping the magazine off the coffee table and rolling it up in his hands, before pointing it at Remus, “and I never want to hear you talking about teen girls shipping incest again.”

Remus gave him a mock-salute, nodding. “Yes, sir.”

Remus and Sirius watched James as he left, and suddenly Remus was very aware of just how close Sirius had been sat to him. It hadn’t seemed significant when the three of them had been trying to squeeze onto the two-seat sofa, but now they were alone the skin of Remus’ thigh seemed to burn through his jeans where their legs were brushing against each other. Remus felt his stomach twist, but told himself to suck it up. It had been long enough. He was over this now.

“So, what did you think?” Sirius asked. Remus looked up into his face, his head snapping up from where he had been staring at his hands in his lap, confused by his question. He had been so caught up in his own head that he didn’t remember the reason they had been sat there in the first place.

“About what?” Remus blinked at Sirius, whose brow creased.

“The article? I’m still not getting the fun vibe from us, to be honest.”

Remus nodded, trying to remember just exactly what it had said about them for a moment, something that was becoming increasingly difficult while Sirius continued to make eye contact with those dark grey eyes of his.

“I mean, I can see where they’re coming from,” Remus shrugged, “we’ve got that kind of squeaky-clean, radio-friendly sound… Like late Bombay Bicycle Club.”

Sirius sighed, rolling his eyes. “Why are you incapable of talking about our genre without bringing them up?”

“Because I’m in love with Jack Steadman, okay, I’m allowed.” Remus shot him a look as if Sirius was supposed to already know this (which he was, Remus gushed about Bombay’s frontman at least once a day). “But no, I see where you’re coming from, I wouldn’t really want that to be the public’s first impression of us if I was in charge of it.”

Sirius shrugged, looking out across the living room at the blank wall opposite them, chewing on his lip for a few moments. “I guess we’ll just have to work hard and show everyone we’re not just another generic indie-pop band that kids listen to when they’re going through their alternative phase.”

Remus frowned, partly mocking. “Isn’t that our main demographic?”

Sirius looked at Remus and laughed, elbowing him in the ribs. “Shut up, Moons.” Sirius leaned into Remus for a fraction of a second, and Remus inhaled sharply, feeling heat build in his cheeks. He stood up quickly, picking his phone up from the arm of the sofa and waving it absently at Sirius, grinning sheepishly.

“I’m just gonna go call my dad – you know, tell him about the article or whatever so he can grab one sometime.” Remus nodded, finding himself suddenly completely unable to make eye contact at all with the bassist, who was now picking at the skin of his fingers, staring at his hands intently.

“Yeah sure,” Sirius mumbled, not looking up from his lap, “see you later.”

***

“Alright, men.” James looked grave as he stood on top of a plastic chair in the tiny cupboard of a dressing room the Marauders had been given, his hands clasped behind his back and his face severe. “Tonight, we play the most important gig of our career.”

“So far.” Peter piped up, holding up a finger as he paused tuning his guitar for a few moments, shooting James an encouraging smile.

James still looked queasy. “Nay, Peter, this is _the_ most important. If we fuck up now, my friends, we will never again have an opportunity so great.”

Remus rolled his eyes. Sometimes, James’ ‘Old General’ shtick was helpful, it could psych Remus up and make him feel better about having to go out and sing for hundreds of people, but today it was just irritating. James had worked himself up, seemingly pinning all of their hopes and dreams on a single twenty-minute set that Remus was probably going to stumble through anyway. He cleared his throat.

“Sounds like they were planning to make this an annual thing, actually.”

James closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He stood like that, high above the others, for a few seconds before he looked back down at Remus, dropping his hand and fixing him with a pointed look.

“Most. Important.” He drew a breath, before standing a little straighter, puffing his chest out. “In the words of our Queen, RuPaul – don’t fuck it up.”

Sirius raised a hand above his head and closed his eyes, “Amen,” he said, entirely seriously. Remus rolled his eyes again. Those two really needed to stop marathoning _Drag Race_.

James hopped down from the chair – only slightly losing his balance upon the landing and using Lily to keep him upright – and took a few steps forward to be closer to his bandmates, who were now all stood in a circle. James lifted his arms and put them around Sirius and Peter, and the others each did the same to the two next to them. James’ eyes were closed, as if in prayer, and Remus supposed he should do the same. Even if he didn’t believe that this was going to be the most important gig of their career, Remus knew that nailing this performance could give them a real boost in publicity.

“Keep calm, Prongs, my boy.” Sirius said, raising a hand and mussing the taller boy’s hair. “We rock, you know that. You’ve always said that. Just keep your tempo and we’ll all be good.”

James opened his eyes and looked down at Sirius, giving him a grateful smile. He tightened his grip around Sirius’ shoulders a little, pulling him in closer for a few moments. “I know, Pads.”

“You’re on,” The stage manager said, poking her head around the door of their room and shooting them a smile when she saw them all in their huddle. “If you all want to follow me?”

She led the four boys and Lily from the dressing room to the side of the stage, where the Weird Sisters’ lead singer, Myron Wagtail, was introducing the next act. The Marauders. Remus gulped – that was them.

“Alright, Brixton, are you lot ready for another act?” He yelled, grasping the microphone as if he was singing despite the fact he was alone up on the stage. “I love this next band – really fresh sound. I wanna see you all dancing!”

Remus could see a pearly white smile appear on James’ face, and saw him mouth something to Sirius that looked an awful lot like “he said he loved us!”

“Give it up for the Marauders!” Myron shouted, raising an arm towards the side of the stage where Remus and the others were huddled in the wings, and Remus took a deep breath. He felt a hand slap him on the back as he watched Wagtail leave the stage, and he felt his stomach twist violently as his bandmates ran past him out into the heat of the spotlights. Remus followed them, unable to hear the whoops from the crowd over his heartbeat in his ears, picking up his guitar and slipping the strap over his shoulder, adjusting the microphone stand so that it was the correct height.

Remus gulped as the crowd fell into an expectant silence, and he glanced back at Sirius, who was wearing a confident smirk. He made eye contact with the bassist, and Sirius gave Remus an encouraging smile. Remus felt the knot in his stomach loosen a little.

Remus turned back, looking out over the crowd, half hidden by the bright lights in his face but nonetheless terrifyingly huge. This certainly wasn’t another student union performance. This was Big. He heard James counting them in with his drumsticks behind him, and stood up a little taller. He could do this – he had sung these songs a thousand times, he had written most of them himself. As the drums kicked in and his fingers moved automatically towards the frets, Remus felt his anxiety begin to drip away, and by the time he began to sing his concerned frown had been replaced with a grin almost as wide as the one he could picture on James’ face.

 _“Running down corridors and chasing down dreams / masking the fact that we’re ripped at the seams.”_ Remus sang, his eyes closed as he felt the music wash over him in waves. This felt good, this felt _amazing_. “ _Acting the clown / painting smiles over our frowns, yeah_.”

Sirius, Peter and James joined in with their harmonies, layering up the lyrics so that they sounded almost choral; the sad lyrics a jarring juxtaposition with the upbeat melody. They hit all the right notes. Remus felt another wave of confidence as the crowd whooped and he opened his eyes, almost surprised to see that they were _dancing_. He grinned, glancing back quickly to make eye contact with Sirius, who was smiling just as widely.

The rest of the performance just got better and better. The four boys played better than they ever had before, all smiling so widely that there was no way the audience couldn’t be drawn in. The passion pouring from the stage was infectious, and soon the entire audience was yelling and whooping for more between every song. Their short twenty-minute set wasn’t enough, and once they reached the end Remus wanted nothing more than to say ‘fuck it’ and break into another, but he knew that would get them disqualified.

“Thank you!” He shouted over the crowd, holding up a hand in a pseudo-wave, “thanks so much, this has been amazing. Once again, we’re the Marauders, and we hope to see you again sometime.”

He stood away from the mic, unplugging his guitar and making his way off of the stage, following Sirius, Peter and James out into the wings while roadies pushed past them to hurriedly set up for the next act. James’ grin was entirely too big for his face – as was Lily’s, and she said nothing when they approached her, only grabbed James squarely by the collar and pulled him down to her height, kissing him ferociously.

Sirius, Remus and Peter watched them, almost horrified, for a second, before Sirius clicked his tongue and raised his eyebrows at his bandmates. “Well, I’d say that tells us how that went.”

Peter nodded, and took a deep breath as if to calm his nerves before smiling at Sirius and Remus. “I think we could be in with a shot, lads.” He took his guitar from over his shoulders and placed it down, leaning it against a wall in the corridor. “They seemed to love us.”

“Damn right, they loved us.” Sirius was beaming – light was practically radiating from his face, he was so happy. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the Twitter app, switching to the band account and checking the notifications. “Holy shit – a hundred new followers, and so many tweets!”

There was a loud _ping_ as all of the boys’ phones went off at once, and Sirius stopped, staring at the screen in awe, his mouth hanging open. Remus reached for the phone, pulling it from Sirius’ grasp and reading the notification. It was a tweet from a verified account – that explained the push notification – from the Weird Sisters’ public profile.

_@WRDSISTERS: Amazing set from @themarauders – they’re definitely the standout of the night so far [fire emoji]_

“Prongs!” Sirius turned quickly, now facing where James was _still_ making out with Lily, who had him pressed up against the wall. “Prongs, get your tongue out of Lily’s mouth, we just got called the standout act of the night!”

Lily and James broke apart abruptly, and Lily pushed away, running up to Sirius so quickly she _actually_ beat James to snatch the phone out of Remus’ hands. James was there less than a second later, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand to get rid of the red lipstick that was now all over his chin. He stood behind Lily and rested his head on her shoulder, reading the Tweet as she held it up for him.

“Fire emoji,” James breathed, “that’s what I like to hear.”

***

The next few weeks were a whirlwind. They won the first heat of the battle, moving onto the next along with the second place bands. Their next show would be in a month, with the first-place winners of the three next heats. Sirius seemed incredibly concerned by this fact, uncharacteristically so, however he refused to say why, despite how many times Remus needled him about it.

Their victory had earned them an awful lot of attention, both on social media and in the music press. _NME_ had published an entire article about them, and had even phoned up Remus for an interview, which he had stumbled through rather spectacularly considering that he had never been interviewed before in his life. He had said some things about wanting to give young LGBTQ+ people a voice in music, which he saw as a problem area in the industry – though, admittedly, it was getting better – and about being so honoured that the Weird Sisters had been so impressed by them, but the magazine seemed more interested to know how the boys had met. Remus had recounted that they had been placed together in student accommodation in their first year of university, however it seemed that that hadn’t been the juicy gossip that they had been hoping to get published, and it hadn’t been printed. Remus had been so concerned about his words being twisted that he had taken twice as long as the interview really ought to have, but he didn’t have a panic attack, so he saw it as a win.

Their Twitter and Facebook followings had tripled, and their record sales had now finally covered the price of the vinyl that James had shelled out on, which had made Lily very happy. They were being offered gig opportunities left, right and centre with wages higher than they could ever have imagined in the weeks prior to the competition. Needless to say, James had had a permanent grin on his face since the moment he had stepped off of the stage.

“Honestly,” Marlene was saying, “you guys really deserve this – your performance that night was better than I’ve ever seen you play before.” She was lazed on a beanbag, which she was sharing with Dorcas, her arm hanging around her girlfriend’s shoulder and her legs stretched out across the floor in front of her, crossed at the ankle.

Dorcas hummed in agreement, nodding so that her dark curls bobbed around her face. “She’s right, which is a nice change.” Dorcas dug her elbow into Marlene’s side as the two of them giggled. Remus laughed at them, raising the beer bottle he held up to his lips. James was hosting another party, this one to celebrate the Marauders’ official Twitter account hitting four thousand followers. They had been having a lot of these little parties recently.

“It was magic.” Sirius said, collapsing down onto the sofa next to Remus, sitting a little too close to him for his liking. “Better than anything I’ve ever experienced before – even better than that blow job from Lockhart in third year.”

Remus choked a little on his beer. “Bloody hell,” he raised an eyebrow, “put that in the official review.”

Sirius winked at Remus, and he felt his cheeks heat up a little. He leaned forward and put his beer down on the coffee table – it seemed he had had enough to drink. Remus cleared his throat loudly, and saw as Marlene and Dorcas exchanged another look, giggling. He frowned at Marlene, who quirked an eyebrow, but continued to laugh regardless.

“So,” she said, still stifling a laugh, “what’s on the setlist for next week?”

It was an innocent enough question, but it still caused a pang of anxiety to shoot through Remus’ chest. They still hadn’t decided it. They had played all of their best songs in their first heat, but they couldn’t play an identical set, that would lose them marks for being boring. He looked down at Sirius, with what he expected was terror plastered all over his face. Sirius rolled his eyes, and patted Remus’ leg fondly – which didn’t exactly help.

“We dunno yet,” Sirius admitted, shrugging. “I think Prongs wants to start every set with _I Solemnly Swear_ , so there’s that, at least.” Sirius moved his hand from Remus’ knee and back into his own lap, where he was holding a bottle of beer. He gave Remus a reassuring look. “I mean, it’s not as if we have a shortage of material, you’ve been writing about three songs a week.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, “that doesn’t mean that they’re any good.”

“Moons, the walls are thin as fuck, I can hear them and I say they’re amazing, okay?” Sirius said firmly. Remus felt himself blush again, looking down at his hands in his lap as he mumbled his thanks. Sirius nudged him with his shoulder, one corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk. “We really need to work on your ego, mate, you can’t even take a bloody compliment.”

Remus shook his head, sighing, and scooped his beer back up from the table, taking a swig. Maybe excessive drinking _was_ the way to go after all. Marlene gave him a look, and Remus returned with the same one. Just because Marlene had been banned from alcohol within the confines of the Marauder Flat didn’t mean that Remus was supposed to go sober out of solidarity. He wasn’t the one who had thrown up on the bathmat.

“Remus! Sirius! Lads!” Frank Longbottom practically fell onto another of the beanbags, lying across it and throwing his arms above his head so that he was practically touching Marlene and Dorcas’ faces. Dorcas looked at him with a sour expression, but Frank looked too drunk to care. “You guys were so good the other night!”

“That was three weeks ago,” Sirius pointed out, taking another sip of his beer and pulling at the hem of his cropped t-shirt absently. Frank didn’t seem to care. Sirius pressed on, “You came over to our house afterwards and told us we were great. And you did at every party we’ve had since.”

Frank didn’t seem to realise this, nor did he seem to be listening at all. He was smiling absently at the ceiling, holding the glass in his hand at a worryingly precarious angle. “You have damp.” He giggled.

Remus sighed, standing up, putting his beer back down and taking the glass from Frank’s surprisingly compliant fingers, before giving it a forceful sniff. It smelt like pure rum – it was probably only ten percent coke. Remus downed it before poking Frank with his foot.

“Oi, get up.”

Frank groaned at him, propping himself up on his elbows and squinting up at Remus, who was usually tall enough that he towered over people, so he could only imagine how difficult it was for Frank to see his face from the floor. He blinked a few times, swaying slightly where he lay.

“No.” He said finally, slurring a little. “You’ll have to come down here and get me.” The sly smile of a man who thought he was a lot more slick than he actually was appeared on Frank’s face, and he seemed to attempt a wink, but Remus was pretty sure he had just blinked. Remus rolled his eyes, and reached down to take a hold of both of Frank’s arms, before heaving with all of his scrawny might. Frank was pulled up onto his feet, but he was unsteady, and fell into Remus clumsily.

“Ooh err,” Sirius raised his eyebrows twice in succession, smirking at Remus, who tutted loudly at him.

“He’s drunk, I’m just trying to get him back to Alice.” Remus said, adjusting his arms slightly so that he was almost hugging Frank, propping him up, “she should probably take him home.”

Alice was Frank’s roommate, and had been for the last two years. Remus had no idea how she put up with him, Frank was a terrible houseguest, so he couldn’t _imagine_ what it would be like to have to live with him. But, then again, Alice was head-over-heels for the boy, and that did certainly increase one’s bullshit tolerance – Remus would know.

“Is this the part where we finally resolve all this sexual tension, Moony?” Frank giggled, standing on his tip toes in an effort to get his face a little closer to Remus’, instead of being buried in his oversized jumper. Remus looked down at the boy and raised an eyebrow.

“Honey, there has never been any sexual tension here.”

Frank scoffed, “Maybe not when you’re _sober_.”

Marlene sighed loudly, and stood up, leaving Dorcas alone on the beanbag, and stretched her arms around Frank’s shoulders, pulling him away from Remus in a sort-of pseudo hug. Remus looked at her gratefully.

“Come on, Frankie,” she said, patting his chest over his shoulder lovingly, but making eye contact with Remus and rolling her eyes. “Let’s go find Alice and get you home.”

She led him off, grabbing him by the hand and practically dragging the boy across the room to where Alice was chatting with Lily by the kitchen island. Remus mouthed his thanks to her before she went, and watched her drag him with a smile. Sirius finally barked a laugh, having been stifling one for the duration of the ridiculous performance that had unfurled before his eyes. Remus tutted at him, falling down onto the sofa next to him again, but gave him a small smile.

“Yeah, Frank really needs to stop doing that.” Remus pulled a face of concern, picking up his beer once more and taking a sip. The issue wasn’t with Frank’s flirting, it was with the fact that Remus was far too tempted to take him up on it sometimes, _especially_ in front of Sirius. Which was also concerning, because Remus wasn’t a high school kid, so he really ought not to still think like one.

Sirius arched a brow, smiling a little as he lifted his drink to his lips. “He’s right though,” he said before taking a sip. “You two do have chemistry.”

Remus felt himself blushing again, and closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to formulate a response, his mouth hanging open a little. “I don’t – I mean, it’s not as if I’m not – ugh.” Remus shook his head, laughing lightly, and looked across at Sirius, making eye contact with the bassist and sighing. “He’s cute, and I’m flattered, but – I dunno, I just don’t like him.”

“Unless you’re drunk,” Sirius held up the hand holding his beer bottle and pointed a finger at Remus. “He was right about that one, you called off a whole party one time because you guys made out.”

Remus’ eyes widened a little, not appreciating these accusations, no matter how true they were. “That was a lapse of judgement! One time! It’s never happening again, honestly – Jelly Shot Remus is a bad person, he has questionable taste in boys.”

Sirius smirked, tilting his head slightly as he quirked an eyebrow, looking out into the middle distance, “Maybe we should make jelly shots again.”

Remus coughed a little, choking on the mouthful of beer he had been swallowing as Sirius spoke, and sputtered as he spoke, “Please, do not do that.”

Sirius grinned, “maybe I want to see who else you’d make out with.”

Remus’ cheeks went a few shades darker, and he was never more grateful for James’ ‘party lights’ (the dimmer switch only on a quarter). He was about to retort with something that probably wouldn’t have been nearly as smooth or covert as he hoped, when Dorcas finally piped up.

“Oh, my God, I can’t listen to you guys trip over each other’s shitty flirting any more – I need shots.” She pushed herself up and out of the beanbag on the floor, smirking a little as she observed the identical half-shocked-half-embarrassed expressions that Remus and Sirius were wearing. Dorcas waved to them cheekily as she walked past the sofa, her silent smirk dissolving into giggles as soon as she passed them. Remus coughed loudly and turned to Sirius, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.

“I don’t know what she’s talking about, my flirting skills are excellent.” He laughed, trying with all of his might to turn the situation into a joke, instead of allowing the aura of cringe that had settled upon the two of them to manifest. Sirius blew air out of his nose in a laugh, and took a long drink before looking back at Remus, smiling.

“Yeah, I think they might need a bit of work, personally.”

“I’ll try not to get too insulted by that.” Remus smirked, trying his best to hide the rising anxiety in his chest. His lungs felt tight, like he could barely breathe, and he could feel his hands beginning to shake. “I’m just gonna –” Remus paused, trying to think of exactly _what_ he was going to do to escape this cripplingly awkward situation, “I’m just gonna go grab some shots.”

Yes, that sounded like a plan.

***

Remus woke up the next morning with a monster of a headache, a mouth as dry as a desert, and a boy in his bed.

Any other day, the latter would have been his priority, but, as he rolled off of the mattress and scooped his pyjama bottoms from the floor, pulling them on, he decided that no – he needed paracetamol, and he needed it now. Remus left his room with all of the speed and grace of a tortoise, squinting against the daylight streaming through the windows of the front room and into the hallway. He really did need to stop drinking so much.

Sirius was sat in the kitchen, but he said nothing when he saw Remus come in, only nodded to acknowledge him – Sirius was well aware of how Remus was hungover by now; he knew not to speak to him until he’d drunk at least two pints of water. Remus grunted by way of a greeting, and made his way to the sink, taking the closest glass from the draining board and filling it with water, before opening the cupboard and finding a packet of painkillers and taking the appropriate amount. Remus downed his water, before filling the pint glass again and turning around to lean on the island, where Sirius was sat, looking at a magazine.

He was staring at the same page; his eyes didn’t even seem to be moving. Remus watched him carefully for a few moments as he drank the pint of water he was holding, before his curiosity got the better of him.

“What’re you reading, bro?” His voice was cracked and gravelly. Remus cleared his throat to try and dislodge whatever gunk was seemingly coating it. Sirius didn’t look up from the paper.

“Nothing,” he said shortly, but he didn’t move, still staring at the same spot on the same page. His phone was out on the table next to him. “Did you check your email? We got sent the lineup for next week.”

Remus shook his head – he wasn’t entirely sure where his phone was, and going to look for it would entail having to see just exactly who it was he had slept with last night, which he wasn’t keen to find out. He had the sneaking suspicion that Frank hadn’t _actually_ gone home.

Sirius pushed the phone towards Remus, still not moving his head, his long hair covering whatever expression might have been on his face. Remus picked up the phone and unlocked it – they all knew each other’s phone passwords, it was just easier – blinking against the bright backlight. An email was on the screen, showing the names of several bands. The Marauders were set to play last, which was concerning. They really had to bring it now.

“Damn, I can’t believe they put us last – do you reckon it’s because they liked us so much last time? They’re trying to make sure that we’re capable of doing it again?” Remus asked, assuming that this was the problem that Sirius seemed to have found. Sirius finally looked up at him.

“What?” he asked, his brow furrowed. Remus was rather taken aback, and sent the bassist back the same expression. Sirius shook his head, and resumed staring at the page in the magazine, that Remus now recognised as the first article they had been published in – the list of other bands competing.

Remus looked back down at the lineup, scanning the names to see if there were any he recognised.

_Celestina Warbeck and the Warblers_

_Insane Gnome Posse_

And…

“Oh.” Remus shifted uncomfortably as realisation dawned over him, he looked up from the phone to look at Sirius and read out the name; “the Death Eaters.”

Sirius sighed loudly, pushing the magazine towards Remus across the countertop. Remus turned it towards him, scanning the page until he found the paragraph about Sirius’ brother’s band.

_The Death Eaters are a South London trio, serving Royal Blood-esque tunes. Their brooding, dark style is guaranteed to win over the crowds at the fourth heat on 1 st July at Brixton O2 Academy. Follow them online @DTH_EATERS_

Remus looked up at Sirius, feeling the anxious knot in his stomach tighten slightly. Sirius hadn’t spoken to his family for years – not since he had come out.

“I’m so sorry, Pads.”

Sirius waved a hand, but didn’t look up. He was just staring at the counter, unmoving. Remus didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Reg never was as bad as the rest of them.” Remus was trying, but it felt unconvincing. To say that Regulus hadn’t been quite as cold and uncaring as the rest of the Black family was true, but it didn’t mean much – the family were terrible bigots, obsessed with tradition and money. They had thrown Sirius out as soon as they had found out he was a little bit different.

Sirius gave a little hum in response, and began picking at his fingers. Remus wanted to comfort him somehow, but he had no idea how to. Before he could make any decisions, Sirius sat up straighter, taking a deep breath and looking up at Remus.

“Well,” he said, a smile on his lips that came nowhere near to his eyes, “I guess we’re just going to have to blow them out of the water, aren’t we?”

Remus nodded, giving Sirius a weak smile in return. “Yeah,” he agreed, “yeah we are.”

“Fuck, my head.”

Remus and Sirius both turned to face the door to the front room, where a very bedraggled looking Frank Longbottom was now stood, grasping his forehead with his hand and squinting at them. Remus groaned – his hunch had been right. Curse Drunk Remus for having such poor judgement.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” He whispered to Sirius, who quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head, shrugging.

“I tried, but there’s no stopping Six-Drink Remus when he’s on a mission.”


	3. Victoria Falls

_Alice in Wonderland to [Moon emoji]_

_A - YOU SLEPT WITH FRANK????????_

_R – oh_

_R- did he just get home?_

_A – REMUS LUPIN_

_R – ye i did but it was an accident i swear_

_A- HOW CAN YOU ‘ACCIDENTALLY’ SLEEP WITH SOMEONE????? I’m sure it’s pretty hard not to notice what’s going on_

_Alice in Wonderland changed Remus Lupin’s nickname to Traitor_

_R – al please_

_A – You PROMISED_

_R – its not my fault were both useless gays ok_

_R – well, frank is a useless bi but whatever_

_A – Remus you promised!!!!_

_R – i was drunk as fuck al im sorry_

_A – Thank you._

_A – You owe me big time for this, asshole_

_R – you cant claim ownership of ppl just bc u have a crush on them al_

_A – This is Girl Code, Remus u don’t sleep with your bff’s crush!!!_

_R – why would i know girl code!!!!!!?????_

_A – Gender isn’t real, Remus_

_R – fair_

***

The next week dragged by slowly, like a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of Remus’ shoe. Alice was angry with him, Sirius was even more angsty than usual, and James had started to get his pre-gig anxiety, which meant the Old General was out in full force once more. Peter was surprisingly chirpy, given that the school holidays were drawing ever closer. Remus supposed that at least one of them should be allowed to be happy.

Their rehearsals had been only a little better than mediocre, with Sirius’ panic of having to see his brother again after several years throwing him off so much that he could barely remember the songs he had written himself, let alone any written by the other members of the band. Any progress on song writing that he may have made before he saw the line-up for Saturday had all fallen away, and Sirius seemed to spend every waking moment moping around the flat, wallowing in unwashed pyjamas and his own self-pity. Remus wanted to feel sorry for him, but he found himself becoming more and more agitated. They only had three days left and their set was shit – if they wanted to get through to the semi-finals they had to up their game, and they had to do it quick.

“Padfoot, you’re off time again!” James stopped playing, pointing his drumstick at Sirius and frowning, leaving the others to play for a second without a beat before they all ceased. Sirius sighed, and his shoulders slumped, which made the way he was carrying his bass look incredibly uncomfortable. He moved his hand up and down the neck of his guitar a few times, not making eye contact with any of the boys.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Remus felt a bubble of annoyance rise in his throat, but he forced it back down. Getting angry at Sirius would only make things worse. The bassist brushed his hair back over his shoulder and stood up a little straighter, making eye contact with Remus for a second, his eyes almost searching for the anger that Remus was trying to hide.  He felt a pang of guilt, and forced a smile in Sirius’ direction, before clearing his throat.

“Should we take it again from the top?” Remus suggested, avoiding Sirius’ eye and trying desperately not to let his bandmates hear his voice tremble.

James let out a loud sigh. He, it seemed, was unconcerned by the idea of making Sirius feel worse. “I suppose we’ll have to.” There was a very strong note of bitterness in his voice, and he shot a glare in Sirius’ direction.

James counted them in by tapping his drumsticks together, making sure that they could all hit the beat this time. To Remus’ relief, Sirius was on it this time, his voice only shaking a little as he sung the harmonies in the chorus.

They only had twenty minutes of the three-quarter hour set that they needed, and Old General Potter was insistent that, besides their lead (and only) single, _I Solemnly Swear (That I Am Up to No Good)_ , they couldn’t repeat any songs, not in a competition of this calibre.

“We could always put _Howlin’ For You_ on the set? They loved that one in the opening heat.” Remus suggested it at the end of their rehearsal, but he knew full well that he would get shot down.

“Moony, we played that already, we’ll get called out on it by the judges.” James shook his head, pulling a black moleskin notebook from his jeans pocket and flipping it open, taking a pen and scribbling notes down on his setlist plan. Remus sighed, but knew it was best not to argue, even though he knew for a fact that _Insane Gnome Posse_ had played the exact same set for both of the shows that they’d been in. The judges couldn’t expect every band to write forty-five minutes worth of material in a week, that was ridiculous, but James was having none of it. “I have that song I wrote for Lily last month, you know, _Flower_?”

Remus frowned. “Didn’t she hate that?” He asked, concerned. James shrugged, scribbling it down in his notebook anyway, adding several question marks.

“She hates them all.”

James left the living room, his brow creased as he examined his notebook, heading back towards his and Lily’s bedroom, leaving Remus in the centre of the room, his guitar still slung around his shoulders, nodding like that dog in the insurance adverts.

“Well,” Peter said, raising his eyebrows as he picked up his keyboard, taking it to prop it up against the far wall, “That couldn’t have gone a lot worse.” He began collapsing the keyboard stand and moving it to stand adjacent to the instrument, leaning next to the kitchen counter. Remus tutted at him, and inclined his head towards Sirius, who was still stood in the centre of the room, holding his bass and frowning at the worn carpet, as if even that was trying to bring him down today.

“Thanks, Pete.” Remus arched an eyebrow, trying to convey to the teacher that he really ought to shut up before Sirius just up and left the flat – and possibly even the band - for good.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Typical, you call me out but not Captain Anxious in there.” He jabbed a thumb at the wall, pointing down the hall to where James was now hiding from them all. “We’re fucking _screwed_ , Remus; Reg and his gross friends are going to eat us alive.”

There was an odd whining noise from behind them, and Remus turned and watched as Sirius appeared to completely deflate, falling back down onto the sofa and expelling seemingly all the air inside him in the loudest sigh Remus had ever heard. He pulled the strap of his bass from around his neck and put down the guitar next to him, his bottom lip sticking out in a suitably overdramatic pout. Remus shot Peter a look that screamed ‘ _Now_ look what you’ve done’, before taking off his own guitar and handing it to the other boy and heading around the sofa to perch on the arm, looking at Sirius with as soft an expression as he could muster at this point.

“Don’t listen to Pete, mate,” He said, reaching out and prodding Sirius’ knee with a skinny finger, giving him a small, albeit fake, smile.

“Oi!” Peter said, placing down Remus’ electric-acoustic next to his keyboard too heavily so that a hollow _thunk_ could be heard throughout the room. Remus shot him a frown, and Peter rolled his eyes, before going over to his futon and flopping down onto it, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He was probably bitching about them on his private Twitter account. Lily always sent Remus the screenshots.

Sirius drew his legs into him, wrapping his arms around them glumly and resting his chin on his knees. His expression almost seemed completely neutral now. His eyes were searching the blank wall across from the two of them, though it was unlikely they would find anything.

“What if –” He broke off, stopping after his voice started to wobble threateningly. Sirius swallowed hard before he continued. “What if _she’s_ there?”

 _Oh_ , Remus though, his mouth opening a little. Suddenly he realised what had been wrong with the bassist so long. He knew why Sirius couldn’t keep time, or write songs, or even sing along to Wonderwall when Remus would start playing it halfway through rehearsals as a joke. He cleared his throat nervously, before standing up and moving Sirius’ bass off of the sofa and sliding into the spot next to him.

Remus extended an arm and patted Sirius’ shoulder in a way that he hoped was comforting, stretching his mouth into an encouraging smile. It didn’t feel convincing, but seemed to work, as Sirius gave another strange little moan and uncurled himself somewhat, his feet back on the floor and his hands flopping down onto the sofa on either side of him, palms up. Remus stared at Sirius’ hand for a moment. Would it be too cliché of him to hold it? The fact that he had to ask himself that told him that the answer was a definite yes, and he drew the hand that had rested on Sirius’ shoulder for perhaps a moment too long back to his lap.

“I’m sure she won’t, Pads.” Remus said, his voice soft, barely a whisper. Sirius looked at him with glassy, tear-clouded eyes. Remus felt his heart break, maybe a little.

“But what if she _is_?” He sounded panicked, and whispered the question quickly to Remus, as if this was his greatest fear, which Remus supposed it probably was. Sirius’ breath was shaking as he spoke. “What if she’s there with _all of them_? What if they try to talk to me? What if they _tell people about me_?” His voice become lower still, and he broke eye contact, looking down at the empty space between them on the sofa. “Or – Or what if she just pretends she doesn’t even know me?”

A tear landed on the sofa cushion, the light desert orange interrupted by a single spot of darker brown. Sirius did not look up, but instead sniffed loudly, moving his hands up to his face and groaning loudly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, louder now, his voice more like his usual self, “sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

Sirius rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes for a few moments, wiping away the tears he obviously didn’t want Remus to see, before letting out a long breath and slapping his hands down squarely on his knees. “I’m going to bed.”

Remus frowned at the bassist as he watched him stand, pushing himself up with his hands on his knees. “Padfoot, it’s three in the afternoon.”

Sirius sidled out into the hallway and turned to go into his room, calling back to Remus brightly.

“Time is a human construct, Moony, it’s not fucking real.”

***

James appeared back in the living room half an hour later, with his moleskin notebook in his hands and a determined expression on his sharp features. Remus, who had not moved since Sirius had left to go to bed, looked around at the doorway, leaning an elbow on the back of the sofa and making eye contact with James, who gave him a single nod.

“Band meeting,” he said shortly.

Peter sat up from where he had been lounging on his futon and gave a loud, pointed sigh. “Dude, I have lessons to plan!”

“It’s the last week of school, just make them watch _The Lego Batman Movie_ or something, it’s not as if seven year olds ever actually _want_ to learn.” James stood up a little straighter, seemingly attempting to appear intimidating, which was not exactly possible with his scrawny frame. “Rally the troops, Moony.”

Remus quirked an eyebrow, “you mean, go fetch Sirius?”

James said nothing, but shot Remus a look that seemed to say ‘just fucking do it, you cocky bugger’. Remus sighed and pushed himself up and off of the sofa, squeezing past James through the doorway and making his way down the hallway to Sirius’ closed bedroom door. He couldn’t tell if Sirius was awake or not, seeing as it was still bright outside and Sirius’ curtains did very little to block out light, but all was silent from within. Remus stared at the door for a moment, the chipped white paint offering him no advice at all as to how to go about gauging this situation. He knocked, and there was a groan from the other side.

“Can a guy not have a depression nap in the middle of the day in peace?” Came Sirius’ grumble from the other side of the door. Remus instantly felt the weird guilt-anger hybrid twist in the bottom of his stomach again, like a creature that had just been woken up with a sharp poke from a stick.

Remus cleared his throat, before calling through to Sirius. “Can I come in?”

A gruff “yes” came from the other side of the door, and Remus gripped the handle, turning it and moving into the room, where Sirius was stood, pulling open the curtains and facing away from Remus. Sirius wasn’t wearing any trousers, Remus noted, though it didn’t bother him much anymore. Trousers were optional in the Marauder flat. That didn’t stop him getting distracted for a moment, however. He cleared his throat again.

“General Potter has called a squadron meeting.”

Sirius turned his head to look back at Remus as he scooped his jeans up off of the floor, giving him an exasperated look.

“So, he’s sent you to get me because he doesn’t want me to suspect the bollocking he’s going to give me.” Sirius rolled his eyes before he began to pull on his jeans, jumping a little to pull them up once they reached his hips.

Remus frowned, “I don’t think he’s planning on –” Sirius interrupted him, fixing Remus with a stare.

“We both know full well that he’s going to try and slap some sense into me, hopefully verbally, but who knows? Maybe I’ve _really_ pissed him off this time.” Sirius tutted loudly, before clapping his hands together and rubbing his palms across each other a few times. “I’ve picked a shitty time to get bad, and I am sorry about that. I don’t think I deserve _this_ though.”

Remus shrugged at the bassist, saying nothing. It wasn’t because he didn’t know what to say – he did – it was just because he knew that Sirius wouldn’t want to hear it. Remus only hoped that James would be kinder than Sirius was expecting, though that was unlikely. They had been childhood friends, and so James was the only one who felt no fragility at all in his friendship with Sirius, and was, therefore, was the only one that ever told him _exactly_ what he thought.

Sirius sighed loudly, and pushed past Remus to make his way down the hall, knocking his shoulder into Remus’ slightly too harshly for it to have been accidental. Remus frowned after him, watching Sirius disappear into the living room, his shoulders low. By the time Remus had followed, James was already beginning to give Sirius a talking to.

“Since _when_ have you given a damn about what they think?” James was standing over Sirius, who was slouched, hugging his knees on the sofa, looking down at the floor and refusing to make eye contact with the taller boy. James’ hands were on his hips, and he almost looked scary.

Sirius only shrugged, and James groaned loudly, throwing his arms up in the air.

“Padfoot, you can’t half be an idiot sometimes, you know that?” He took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt, as he often did when he felt frustrated, before pushing them back up his nose and fixing Sirius with a stare. “Walburga is as much your mother as _I_ am – in fact, I’m your mother now. She’s no one, she doesn’t matter.”

Sirius looked up at that, his eyebrows raised slightly in a pitiful expression, “But Reg –”

“We’re replacing Regulus with Peter – he’s a better brother anyway.”

Peter, who was leaning against the kitchen island behind the sofa, gave a little mock salute as the three of them turned to look at him.

“What I lack in experience I make up in enthusiasm.” Peter grinned, and Remus saw Sirius give him a smile.

“Thanks, lads.” Sirius shifted a little in his seat, loosening his grip on his legs, before turning around to face Remus, giving him an odd little grin. “So,” he said, quirking an eyebrow, “what role are you gonna fill in this new replacement family?”

Remus felt his cheeks grow a little redder, and found himself almost cursing the return of the old, cocky Sirius. He cleared his throat and tilted his head a little, twisting his features into a look of deep thought.

“I’ve always felt like I could play a mean Bellatrix,” he grinned, “if someone finds me a psycho boyfriend and pays for us to get matching tattoos then I’d be happy to be your Fake Cousin.”

Sirius laughed at that, and Remus felt a small pang of pride. The bassist uncurled himself and stretched his legs out, putting his feet on the coffee table, and raised his hands up in the air, pointing to Remus. “Someone get this man a pair of Docs and some heroin.”

James laughed, finally relaxing his posture a little before crashing down onto the sofa next to Sirius, putting an arm around his friend’s shoulder and squeezing a little. “But seriously, Pads, those people aren’t worth the energy you’re spending worrying about them. They’re literal human garbage. The best way to get back at them is to kick the shit out of Regulus on stage.” James caught himself and frowned, pointing a finger at Sirius, “I mean that metaphorically. Kick his arse with badass basslines.”

“Could I not _also_ literally kick his arse?” Sirius asked, seemingly entirely serious, “I promise I’ll only do it after we’ve been announced as the winner of the heat.”

James narrowed his eyes, and moved the finger that was still pointing to Sirius slightly closer to the bassist’s face. “No literal kicking.”

“What about punching?”

“ _Sirius_!”

***

In the days that followed their band meeting/intervention, Sirius seemed to be filled with a renewed vigour, and Remus had actually caught him _humming_ while he cooked pancakes on the morning of the eve of the semi-finals. Sirius had been on time and enthusiastic in every band practice, and Remus had begun to overhear him playing his song that he had been working on again, though it still didn’t seem to be going quite as smoothly as he would have liked.

Something still seemed off with him. Despite one problem being lifted there was still something missing, something that seemed to have been a problem for a while. Remus could only hope that Sirius figured out whatever it was before the finals, otherwise they might just completely run out of material to perform. They needed that song, without it they stood no chance of ever headlining The Order of the Phoenix. There were only so many songs that Remus could write.

“Okay, so,” Lily started, standing in front of the four boys, half of whom were on the sofa, and half on the pile of bean bags in the corner. She was holding James’ moleskin notebook and a pen, and her hair was scraped back into a bun which, coupled with her yellow blazer, made it look almost as if she could be _paid_ to be their manager. “Set list for tomorrow is as follows: _I Solemnly Swear_ to open, then the _Dancing in the Moonlight_ cover?” She looked over at James, who nodded.

“I think it’ll get the crowd in the mood.” He smiled, and Lily scribbled a note down in the book before continuing.

“ _Howlin’ For You_ , _Star Boy_ , _Mischief Managed_ and _Map of Your Heart_ all in a row?” Lily seemed unsure, but James nodded again, insisting that they grab the crowd’s attention with all the most popular and upbeat songs at the beginning so that they win their loyalty. Lily inclined her head a little, but didn’t say anything to oppose, instead choosing to continue with the set list.

“Next is the cover of _And Your Bird Can Sing_ , which I think is actually quite good to say you’re trying to play a Beatles song, by the way. Then you’ve got _Flower_ and _Invisible_ to slow it down a little, followed by the big finish with _Army of Four_.” She gave a little smile at the end, looking at each of them in turn deliberately, finally settling on James, dropping the smile and adding, “You know I fucking hate _Flower_ and _Map of Your Heart_.”

James shrugged, standing up and giving her a fond smile as he snaked his arm around her shoulder. “Ah yes, dear, but you see, you hate every song I’ve ever written for you.”

Lily gave him an exasperated look, shaking her head, but slipping her own arm around his waist anyway, secretly enjoying the situation, though she would never admit it. “You’re far too sappy, that’s why.” She mumbled, as he hugged her into his chest. She started smiling at that point, and Sirius made a fake vomiting noise.

“Get a room, you two.”

James shot Sirius a look, raising his eyebrows, “we already have one, it’s down the hall.”

“Then go to it.”

Remus cleared his throat loudly and shifted a little in his bean bag in an attempt to sit up a little straighter before he addressed the group. “Uh, before that,” He said, his voice a little unsure, “I think we’ve got a really strong set list lined up, and I really do think we’re in for a chance tomorrow, even if we are repeating two whole songs.” Remus looked over at James and made his voice sound overly pained and sad to mock him. James laughed, pulling away from his and Lily’s embrace and running a hand through his wild hair.

“If we get called out on that it’s all on you, I hope you realise that.”

Remus fixed James with a serious look, letting his mocking façade fall for a few moments, leaning forward slightly. “It’s going to be fine, James, we’re getting to that final if it’s the last thing we ever do.”

James’ shoulders went back as he stood up straight, and Remus could see the Old General wake up behind James’ dark eyes. “Alright men,” he said, “off to bed. An early night is needed, we can party tomorrow.”

“Is that a promise?” Sirius asked, a twinkle in his eye as he got up from the sofa, stretching his arms above his head.

“Oh, Pads,” James’ face cracked into a grin that almost didn’t fit on his features, “you _know_ it is.”

***

 _Bodyform Toes_ to _The World’s Greatest Indie Pop Band_

_S – Today’s the day._

_The Old General sent an emoji_

_J – [three skull emojis and a poo emoji]_

_S – cheer up Jamie, it’s gonna be great!!!! See that shit’s little smile? That’s because it knows we’re gonna boss it_

_How Many Moon Metaphors Can I Put In One Song started a group call_

_Bodyform Toes, The Old General and ‘I’d Rather Supervise Year Twos Than Sirius’ declined the call_

_R – why r u guys using the gc when were all in the flat_

_S – Because I don’t want to get out of bed obvs_

_J – Dude it’s 1pm_

_J – I’ve already been to the gym and I went for brunch with marlene_

_P – Brunch? Why are you so upper class?_

_J – because my dad makes really good hair gel_

_S – Brunch is a Gay Meal Prongs do u have something to tell us_

_J – since when is brunch gay_

_R – hes right it is_

_How Many Moon Metaphors Can I Put In One Song added Lily Evans_

_R – lily ur boyfriend went out for brunch im sorry to break this to you_

_L – oh damn_

_L – I always knew it_

_L – his taste in shirts always was rather fruity_

_J – why are you all attacking me like this_

_S – We’ve learnt a valuable lesson here today, men. Never share personal information on the internet_

_P – I’m not sure that this is exactly what that means, Padfoot._

_S – Nonsense_

_L – why are u using this group chat when we’re all sat in the living room?_

_S – Hey! I’m not there!_

_L – get out of bed sirius_

_S – Never_

_L – we have to leave at 5 pads and you KNOW it takes you like 3 hours to do your hair_

_R – shes right it does_

_P – One time it took 5 hours and then you still hadn’t even done your makeup._

_J – if ur not up in ten mins I’m coming in there to jump on u_

_S – You wouldn’t_

_L – i should warn u he was lying when he said ten mins_

_R – ye man hes on the warpath_

_P – Damn, Pads, that was an impressive scream._

_R – great volume_

_L – i think the neighbours must have heard that_

_S – I hate you all_

***

_@themarauders: Hope to see some of you guys at the O 2 Academy tonight for the semi finals of @WRDSISTERS BOTB! It’s set to be [100 emoji]_

_@loonyloopylupin: @themarauders i just want everyone to know that it was sirius who wrote this tweet i would never use that emoji_

***

“I’m gonna throw up.”

Sirius was hunched over in the corner of the cupboard-sized dressing room that the Marauders had been assigned to, clutching his knees, his face almost green. The pressure of possibly seeing his mother and almost definitely seeing his brother seemingly having hit him in the face all at once, as not two seconds ago he had been stood up, tuning his bass and laughing at one of Peter’s stupid jokes. James was similarly sickly looking, but had a determined look in his eye, though he was drumming his drum sticks against his legs anxiously.

“You’ll be _fine_ , Padfoot, as long as you don’t let it get to you too much.” Peter said, crouching down next to the bassist and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Sirius deflated a little more, and sighed loudly. Peter said nothing, but patted Sirius’ shoulder twice, gave him an unconvincing smile, and stood back up, pushing himself up on his knees.

Remus moved over and nudged Sirius’ knee with the toe of his boot, making Sirius look up at him, his eyes big, grey and glassy. Remus raised his eyebrows in what he hoped was a helpful expression. “Hey, all we can do now is kick their arses, remember?”

Sirius gave a small nod, but did not get up. “I think I’ll be okay,” he said, his voice small, “once I get out there, I mean. It’s just the waiting that I hate.”

They had been told to arrive at the venue three hours before the show was to begin in order to have time for each band to soundcheck. Each group seemed to be keeping to themselves, which had proved helpful for the Marauders especially, as Sirius was flipping between wanting to cry about the possibility of seeing his brother, and wanting to find Regulus himself and beat the shit out of him. Remus was pretty sure that the latter would get them not only disqualified from the competition, but arrested too, so it had been imperative to keep Sirius inside the dressing room at any time that they weren’t required on the stage, if only for the band’s sake.

They were to be the last on stage, so they had to wait the longest. They had heard _Celestina Warbeck and the Warblers_ and _Insane Gnome Posse_ play their sets, and there was currently a playlist of cliché mid-naughties indie playing over the tannoy while the roadies set up the stage for _The Death Eaters_ ’ set. Lily was standing anxiously by James, watching Sirius out of the corner of her eye and swinging her arms forwards and backwards slightly in time with her breathing. Peter seemed like the only one who was calm enough to think straight, and he made an attempt to cheer them up as Remus made his way back to his seat on the opposite side of the room.

“It’s going to be great, guys!” He said, a smile on his round face. James only looked at him, saying nothing, and swallowed hard. Peter coughed a little, before standing a little taller, seemingly accepting the fact that he was going to have to act as their only cheerleader this time. Remus suddenly felt the absence of the Old General as Peter began to speak. “Okay boys, I know this seems tough, but it’s just another gig! We’ve played these songs hundreds of times before, and we know that everyone out there is going to love it. And anyway, we _have_ to do well, because my mum’s come to see us. I’m pretty sure Dorcas and Marlene managed to snag tickets too, so we can’t let them down!”

“Pete, mate, I’m sorry,” Sirius said, his voice sounding slightly broken, “but your primary school pep talk really isn’t working for me.”

James stopped drumming on his legs, the look of determination that had before been weak glistening through more strongly now as he pushed his shoulders back, a small smile stretching over his lips. “No,” he said, “Pete’s right, we have our friends here – our family – we can do anything.”

Sirius groaned, but Remus, too, shared James’ renewed sense of vigour.

“Come on, Pads, you know we’re gonna kill this.” Remus finally spoke, shifting in the tiny plastic chair he was perched on, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. He was still anxious, pulling at the wool of the heavy green jumper he was wearing (rather stupidly, seeing as it was the summer, but he had to stay true to the band’s aesthetic), but he was trying not to show the fear in his face. They had to come together now, they had to make Sirius see that together they could win this. Together the four of them were unbeatable.

The voice of Myron Wagtail rang through the room over the tannoy, calling out to the crowd and announcing that the next band was about to come on.

“ _Alright Brixton!_ ” He yelled, “ _Time for another stellar act! Are you guys ready for this?_ ” He paused, and the screams of the crowd could be heard through the speaker. Remus made brief eye contact with Sirius, who was still looking like he was going to be sick.

Myron continued. “ _Give it up for our next band… The Death Eaters!_ ”

Sirius groaned again, much louder than before, and buried his face in his knees, moving his hands, which had been hugging his legs, to the top of his head, where his fingers tangled themselves in his hair. Remus watched, feeling nothing. He was too far into an anxiety spiral to care about anything other than himself right now. He was just trying to keep himself in his own head for long enough to get through their set.

Nothing but the crowd could be heard for a few moments, before a voice rang out, clear as day, through the speakers. It was Regulus.

“ _Hi, Brixton, it’s great to be back here again, and in the company of someone very dear to me_.”

Sirius was shaking his head now, muttering under his breath. Remus had never realised just how much his brother could get to him.

“ _You may not know this but we have a special connection with one of the other bands playing here tonight_!” Regulus continued, and Remus felt anger start to bubble inside of his stomach. If Regulus had the audacity to gloat about Sirius, or used this opportunity to attack him then it wouldn’t be Sirius beating the shit out of his brother, it would be Remus.

“ _My brother, Sirius, is part of The Marauders_ ,” Regulus said, and everyone in their dressing room tensed. All eyes fell on Sirius, who was still hunched in the corner of the room, shaking slightly, his face hidden. Regulus’ voice continued to blare through the speakers, “ _And I wish him all the best of luck tonight – I haven’t seen him for a long time, and it’s good to know that he’s doing well._ ”

Sirius’ face appeared from behind his knees, and his eyes met with Remus’, confusion running deeply across his features. His eyes were red, but he seemed too shocked to cry now. He did not avert his gaze as Regulus finished his speech.

“ _This song goes out to him, there’s no one I’d rather get through this competition with._ ”

The band went into an upbeat number, but no one in the dressing room was listening anymore. There was an odd silence hanging over them all, an anticipation hanging in the air that felt exceedingly fragile, as if it would shatter if one of them so much as breathed too hard. They knew that none of them could speak before Sirius, but Sirius didn’t seem to be able to process what he had just heard. All he could do was stare at Remus.

They stayed like that for a good fifteen minutes of the Death Eaters’ set, none of them really paying attention to the songs or Regulus’ patter to the crowd in between. Sirius seemed to be attempting to pull himself together, only finally looking away from Remus to wipe his eyes carefully, attempting to keep his eyeliner as sharp as it had been before. When he finally spoke, Sirius’ voice had more spirit than it had done in the last week, and James’ face cracked into a grin as soon as he heard the first word.

“These guys are a bit shit, aren’t they?”

***

The Marauders’ set was phenomenal. The crowd had loved every second of it, dancing when they were told to dance; putting up their phone lights during the slow songs, and screaming for more once they had finished. Again, Myron Wagtail had praised them enthusiastically both before and after their set, which had put James into a frenzy, and his drumming had been some of the finest of his career so far.

Remus wasn’t sure that he could ever get used to people screaming for them. He was still astounded even when they gained a new Twitter follower, let alone the several hundred that they’d gained since the first round. _The Weird Sisters_ had tweeted about their set again, and this time the band had gained so many new followers that Remus had had to turn off the notifications on his phone because they were starting to make him feel a strange mix of happiness and pure terror. They now had such a big audience that they couldn’t even rewrite a tweet with a typo without someone replying with a screenshot of the original and a snarky remark.

Sirius was taking their newly found fame in his stride, enjoying the fact that the comments section on his Instagram was becoming a cacophony of horny teenage girls posting aubergine and tongue emojis, and making comments that Remus was pretty sure had come straight out of his own brain. Sirius was flaunting these comments whenever he could at their party that evening, pushing his way to the drinks on the kitchen island and saying, “get out of my way, don’t you know you’re in the presence of a sex god?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Frank Longbottom slurred, laughing, but Remus saw his eyes trail down Sirius’ chest to his exposed midriff. Remus really did hate it when he wore crop tops, it was far too distracting, and now he realised that he probably wasn’t the only one who found them so. “If you’re making a rum and coke you can get me one too.”

“Don’t you think that maybe you’ve had enough?” Alice piped up from behind the boy, fixing him with a glare as he continued to ogle Sirius’ abs. She was still bitter about the incident that had happened in the previous week, despite the fact that Remus had apologised over and over again. Remus didn’t even know what she saw in him, he needed a serious attitude check and to grow up a little before he became anything _near_ datable, but then Alice had always been a firm believer in love at first sight, and she had been infatuated for years.

Frank waved a hand at her, screwing up his eyes and shaking his head. “Nah, Al, I’ve not had anywhere near yet.”

Remus reached across from the opposite side of the island and scooped a bottle of cider from under Sirius’ outstretched arm, and the bassist looked up at him and winked. Remus blushed furiously and retracted his arm, lifting the bottle to his lips and taking a long drink, averting his eyes down to the floor and turning back to the rest of the room, where Peter was performing his annual End-Of-Term Dance Routine, which this year included a perfectly executed rendition of the dance from the music video of _Touch_ by _Little Mix_. Watching Peter gyrating proved comedic enough to take his mind off of the look on Sirius’ face when he had seen Remus staring at him, and soon he had pulled out his phone and was filming the performance for blackmail material.

Marlene and Dorcas were leaning over the back of the sofa, watching Peter and whooping, singing along with the song that was playing. Remus made his way over to them and perched himself on the arm of the sofa, his phone in one hand and his drink in the other.

“I’m not entirely sure what’s going on, but this is possibly the most exercise I’ve ever seen him do, so I’ll encourage it.” Remus said, leaning closer to Dorcas so that she would be able hear over the blaring pop beat. She laughed, raising her arms over her head to dance along.

“I have to commend his choice this year, _Little Mix_ are amazing.”

Remus pulled a face, adjusting his camera angle as Peter moved over to the wall and started thrusting again. “I don’t see the appeal personally.”

“Of course you don’t,” Marlene called across to him as she clapped along to the song, “you’re not attracted to women.”

Peter was on the floor again, moving his body in ways that Remus never wanted to see Peter move, and he decided that now was the time for him to turn off his camera.

“I need shots.” Remus decided, slipping his phone back into his pocket and downing the last of his cider, before heading back to the mountain of drinks bottles on the island. Sirius was still there, pouring far too many different types of alcohol into his glass in an attempt to create what Remus had overheard him referring to as ‘the world’s most alcoholic cocktail’. Frank had vacated the area, as had Alice, and Sirius was alone humming to himself as he poured gin into the pint glass. Remus moved into place next to him and picked up the tequila, pouring himself a shot into one of the glasses.

“Peter’s dancing getting too much for you?” Sirius asked, laughing. Remus downed the liquid, grimacing slightly before nodding at the shorter boy.

“It was fine until he did the floor choreography, I never needed to see Pete doing that.”

“You’ve got to admit though,” Sirius raised an eyebrow, inclining the bottle of Sambuca he was holding in Remus’ direction, “it’s a better choice than last year.”

Remus nodded absently as he watched Sirius pour far more than one shot’s worth of the alcohol into his glass, remembering all too vividly Peter’s attempt to copy the _Single Ladies_ dance after four shots of absinthe last year. He poured himself another shot, and held it up to Sirius as he spoke. “I think he’s seen the music video more than twice this time.” Remus drank the shot, pulling a face again.

“You wanna drink something sweeter, mate.” Sirius poured grenadine into his concoction and used a teaspoon to stir it until the murky brown liquid turned a pleasant looking pink. He pushed the pint glass towards Remus and inclined his head down towards it. “You can be my poison checker.”

Remus’ brow furrowed as he eyed the glass suspiciously, “I’m pretty sure that’s ninety-nine percent poison, Pads.”

“Go on,” Sirius elbowed him, raising the corner of his mouth into a smirk, “we did good today, we’re in the finals – let loose a little, Moony.” Sirius gave Remus yet another wink, and Remus felt his cheeks burning. He quickly picked up the glass and took a long drink, the grenadine only masking the taste of the ten different types of alcohol a little. Remus’ eyes started watering, but he swallowed the drink anyway, giving Sirius a pointed look.

“That was without a doubt the worst thing I’ve ever tasted.” Remus coughed, trying to get the taste of the drink out of his throat. Sirius laughed, scooping up the pint glass and taking a long drink.

“Come on,” he said, tugging at Remus’ sleeve and setting off away from the kitchen counter, “let’s get away from Peter’s aggressive gyrating.”

Remus didn’t need to be told twice. He scooped up the bottle of tequila and the shot glass he had used and followed Sirius as he left the room and headed down the hallway, hopping up to sit on the washing machine that was pushed up against the end wall. Remus climbed up onto the dryer next to him, and Sirius passed him the pint glass so that Remus could take another sip.

He was already feeling dizzy. Damn, that shit worked fast.

“Nothing can bring us down now, Moony, even if we don’t win this competition we’ve made it.” Sirius was smiling off into the distance, a glassy look in his eyes as he swayed slightly, swinging his legs forwards and backwards so his feet hit the washing machine with a soft thud. Remus smiled at him and poured out a shot, handing it to Sirius, who took it gratefully.

“Yeah, we’re on our way now for sure.” Remus smiled, looking down at Sirius and watching him down the tequila before handing Remus back the glass.

Sirius took another sip of his cocktail, looking down at the worn carpet for a while before moving to meet Remus’ gaze, giving him a soft smile. “You were really good today, Moony.”

Remus knew that his cheeks were burning now, but he figured that the red glow he always got from drinking far too much alcohol would mask it. He gave Sirius a small smile, finding it increasingly difficult to keep eye contact with the bassist. “Thanks,” he said, quieter than before, looking down at the tequila bottle in his hand, “you played so well today, Sirius. I’m not just saying that because you just said it about me, by the way – I mean it. I was, uh, worried because of, you know, how you’ve been over the last week but you were so good. The best I’ve ever seen you.” Remus tripped over the words as he tried to get them out, but got to the end of the sentence eventually, not looking at Sirius as he spoke unless expressing his doubt had made him angry.

Sirius chuckled lightly, swaying again until his shoulder bumped into Remus’, where it stopped. Remus was almost hyper-aware of the touch, all other thoughts expelled from his sloppy, drunken mind so that all he could think about was Sirius, and how close they were, alone in the hallway. Sirius didn’t seem as fazed by it, and tilted his head so it was lying against Remus’ shoulder.

“Your jumper is soft.” He said, his voice quiet and dreamy.

Remus chuckled, moving his head so that it rested on top of Sirius’ and feeling the glow of alcohol in his stomach. “You’re very drunk,” Remus said, but he couldn’t complain. He had spent years wishing for a situation just like this one to happen. The only downside was that Sirius was drunk, and probably wouldn’t have sat with Remus like that if he was sober.

“ _You’re_ very drunk.” Sirius retorted, laughing a little at his remark. Remus inclined his head and raised his eyebrows – Sirius wasn’t wrong. Remus would have never allowed himself to sit like this with Sirius in a sober state, he wouldn’t have trusted himself enough, not that he trusted himself now, he just had worse judgement. He was enjoying the feeling of Sirius’ head resting heavily on his shoulder, the feeling of his hair on Remus’ cheek. He could have stayed like that forever.

“Hey, Padfoot,” Remus started, creasing his forehead into a frown and looking at the floor, trying to formulate his sentence before he said it, though his processing was becoming more and more sluggish as time went on and the alcohol coursed through his body.

“Yeah, Moons?” Sirius moved his head so that he was sat up straight and drew his legs up onto the washing machine, crossing them and turning to face Remus fully. While Remus was sad about the contact being lost, he copied Sirius so that the two of them were now sat, knees touching, opposite each other on the appliances in the dimly lit hallway.

“I was thinking,” Remus started, stuttering slightly, finding his words were starting to slur, “I was thinking that I should help you finish that song tomorrow.”

Sirius tilted his head to the side, the corner of his mouth sliding up into a smirk as he met Remus’ eyes. His eye contact was always so intense. Remus blushed.

“Yeah,” Sirius said, “that would be good. It’s just lyrics I can’t get. They’re too...” Sirius trailed off, before looking down at his lap, where he was picking at his fingernails absently, having placed the pint glass down behind him on the washing machine.

Remus leaned down so that he was in Sirius’ eyeline. “Too what?” He asked, raising his eyebrows, starting to feel extremely wobbly on top of the clothes dryer, his lankly legs far too long to be folded onto the space. Sirius shrugged, averting his gaze again. Remus had never seen him acting this shy before. It was cute. Remus giggled.

“What?” Sirius looked up and glared at Remus accusingly, “Why are you laughing at me?”

Remus shook his head, still laughing, feeling the alcohol warming his chest suppressing his better judgement. “Because you’re adorable.”

Oh god. Why had he said that? Remus looked down at his lap quickly and cleared his throat. “Uhh, I mean –”

“Not as cute as you.” Sirius giggled.

 _What_?

Remus looked up at Sirius, who was laughing at the incredulous look on Remus’ face. “What are you talking about?” Remus said, accusingly. He wasn’t sure why he felt so defensive. Maybe it was because he felt like Sirius was mocking him, or he just meant it in a platonic way, or… Remus didn’t know. He just knew it had to be anything but what Remus had meant.

“I’m _drunk_ , Moony. If I can’t tell you I have a crush on you after I’ve drunk a mixture of absinthe, beer, rum and vodka then when _can_ I tell you?”

Remus didn’t know what to say. He stared at Sirius, his mouth slightly open, for a few moments, searching for some hint of a joke in his eyes, but there was nothing there. Remus felt sick.

Sirius leaned forward a little, so that their noses were only a few centimetres apart. Remus could feel Sirius’ breath on his face – it smelt like grenadine and alcohol. He had never been more tempted, and he had never been more confused. Sirius couldn’t _actually_ like him, they had known each other for far too long, something would have happened by now, but Sirius seemed entirely serious, looking almost hungrily at Remus’ lips as if he was trying to decide just how aggressively to attack them.

“I’m pretty sure there was more than just those in that drink.” Remus said finally, his voice only a whisper. Sirius clearly wasn’t listening, as he chose that moment exactly to close the distance between them and pull Remus into a kiss.

Remus was stunned. Never in his wildest dreams (and, boy, had he had some dreams about this) had Sirius been the one confessing, the one kissing Remus. He felt Sirius’ arm snake around his waist, and one hand find its way tangled into his hair and thought _fuck it_. Remus closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Sirius’ neck, kissing the boy with all the enthusiasm that four years’ worth of pining could have built up within him. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, their kisses sloppy and tinged with the taste of alcohol and desperation. Something told Remus that maybe, just maybe, Sirius had wanted this for as long as he had.

“Oh my god, Lily, get in here – it’s finally fucking happened!”

Remus and Sirius broke apart abruptly at the sound of James’ yell, the light above them in the hallway flicking on and exposing them as they sat on the appliances alone at the end of the corridor. There was no mistaking what they had been doing.

“For fuck’s sake,” Lily appeared in view, a beer in her hand and a scowl on her face, “you two couldn’t have waited ‘til the finals, could you?” She dipped her hand into the inside pocket of her blazer and took out a ten pound note that she held out to James, who took it happily.

“I always knew it’d be the semi-finals. The drama of it all was just –” James inhaled sharply through his nose, closing his eyes and smiling, “- perfect.” Lily rolled her eyes.

“Always the romantic.”


	4. Faithless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is! The end! I hope you've all enjoyed this journey as much as I have, though this last chapter has been a bit of a mission to write, seeing as my third year of uni is proving to be a lot more hectic than I thought. This chapter is extra long and for that I can only apologise, but hopefully it should make up for the wait.
> 
> I'm sorry about the ending.

Remus woke up the next morning with a large throbbing in his temples and a mouth as dry as sandpaper. That party had been spectacular, possibly their best ever – not that Remus could remember any of it at all. He groaned and writhed around for a few moments on top of his duvet, which he had apparently felt no desire to get under at any point in the night, crawling towards his bedside table from where he had been huddled by the wall. The little light that blinked on his phone when he had received a text was there, flashing at him in the darkness of his room.

“Stop it.” He muttered to it, his eyes barely open, face squashed against his pillow in a way that made him look incredibly pathetic. The little light continued.

Remus sighed and mustered as much strength as he could in his current state, groaning loudly in an attempt to build up some more courage, before reaching over and picking up his phone, pulling out the charging cable and holding it up close to his face. He pressed the unlock button on the side of the device and the screen lit up. He yelped. Why had Drunk Remus put the screen brightness on full? Did he not _know_ that Remus was going to be hungover in the morning? Did he not _care_?

Remus screwed up his eyes and squinted at the screen as he fumbled with the brightness settings, turning off the backlight completely before he could fully open his eyes once more. He had one hundred messages in the ‘Marauders Fan Club’ group chat from the last few hours. His brow furrowed.

_Marley And Me to Marauders Fan Club_

_M – Awesome party guys! @ Moony and Pads I’m so happy for u guys!!!!_

_Dork – how does it feel to be a minority prongs #tokenstraight_

_Little Drummer Boy – it feels great I love all of you gays_

_D – that’s offensive_

_J - *guys_

_M – [eyes emoji]_

_Piano Man – I think Remus and Sirius are both out for the count_

_M – in their own rooms or [wink emoji]_

_J – ew, marlene, they’re my brothers_

_D – no ye tell us prongs we wanna know_

_J – why are u two texting when you’re obviously together_

_M – Fuck off, Prongs_

_M – Give us the gossip._

_J – i remember………… very little_

_D – wow, riveting_

_P – I think they finally stopped making out when Prongs put on Mr Brightside_

_J – a classic_

Remus looked up for a moment, narrowing his eyes, before he switched apps and opened his phone camera. His own sad, sickly face stared back at him, all cheekbones and eye-bags. There was lipstick all over his chin.

He dropped his phone

That was Sirius’ lipstick. He had been snogging Sirius.

 _Shit_.

He went back to the group chat and quickly scanned the rest of the messages, his heart pounding in his ears.

_D – whether or not mr Brightside is a classic is not up for debate, what we need to know is if pads and moony are an item now_

_J – well don’t ask me i was drunk as fuck_

_Lily Pads – what have I missed I was in the shower_

_M – We’re trying to decipher whether or not Remus and Sirius have finally declared their undying love or whether they were just having a drunk make out sesh_

_L – ah, so it’s important then_

_D – I don’t like that that sounded sarcastic_

_J – shes just bitter she lost the bet_

_L – u gave them rum on purpose i know u did_

_J – they drank the rum of their own accord lils_

_L – im breaking up w u_

_J – OVER TEXT????? IN THE G R O U P C H A T??????? a new low_

_D – finally_

_D – the straights are gone_

_J – fuck off dorcas_

_L – im kidding jamie u can stop crying_

_J – i wasn’t crying_

_M – Sure_

_J – fuck OFF marlene i was crying bc u two are so annoying. theyre tears of FRUSTRATION_

_D – ah, so u WERE crying_

_J – [middle finger emoji]_

It went on like this for another twenty messages, so Remus scrolled past them, rolling his eyes even though the conversation had happened an hour ago.

_D – we’ve gotten off topic here_

_D – so. moony and pads_

_World’s Sexiest Bassist – Did someone say my name?_

Remus groaned and buried his face into his pillow. Sirius had woken up before him and seen _all_ the messages. There was no hiding it. It had happened.

This was going to be the most humiliating day of his life.

Before Remus could carry on reading, he was forced to the most recent message by someone at mentioning him. Remus felt queasy, and it wasn’t just because of the hangover.

_P - @Remus Lupin I see you’re awake – care to give us some clarity?_

_Moonage Daydream – can we maybe wait until ive caught up pls i have no idea whats going on_

_J – what’s going on is that u and Padfoot made out_

_L – a lot_

_P – You were at it for at least an hour_

_J – u didn’t even stop when me and lils told u abt our bet_

_P – James, your texting style is terrible, just decide whether or not you’re going to use apostrophes._

_D – can we return to the topic at hand pls_

_M – Ye, like……. Are you guys a thing now?_

Remus stared at the screen, dumbfounded. Well, he wondered, were they? He could hardly even remember the aforementioned snogging, so did it really mean anything? He couldn’t exactly ask Sirius, who was clearly reading the whole conversation as indicated by the tiny version of his profile picture hovering by Marlene’s message, so why wasn’t _he_ replying. Maybe he felt the same way as Remus, or maybe he was completely mortified by the whole situation, and never wanted to speak to Remus again.

Remus’ hands began to shake, and he was starting to find it increasingly difficult to breathe.

_World’s Sexiest Bassist is typing…_

Remus stared at the screen, his breathing becoming heavier and tighter in his chest. His hands were shaking so much now he was finding it hard to focus on the little dots pulsing on the screen. They disappeared, and no message was sent. Remus made an odd groaning noise.

No one was saying anything. The chat was silent, waiting for Remus or Sirius to give an answer that neither of them knew how to give. Remus wanted more than anything for the answer to their question to be ‘yes’, but he felt in his heart that Sirius would want it to be the opposite. Sirius was gorgeous, he was witty and outgoing and captivating when he spoke. He was everything that Remus wasn’t, so what would he ever see in the singer? Remus sat up and shuffled back on his mattress so that he was leaning against the wall, his legs folded up close to his chest, hugging his knees. He locked his phone and threw it down on the floor, and closed his eyes, trying very hard not to cry, or to vomit. Or both.

He sat like that for a while, not watching the time pass by on his clock and therefore unsure as to how long he was there. He didn’t feel like he was himself anymore, but it had been years since he had been diagnosed with anxiety, so the dissociation didn’t concern him anymore. He just had to ride it out.

Some time passed, and soon there was a tentative knock on Remus’ door.

Whoever it was did not speak, and therefore Remus was reluctant to answer it. It was probably James or Lily, here to press more questions upon him that he did want or even know how to answer. He ignored it, and went back to his wallowing, feeling resoundingly glum, letting whoever it was knock at least another ten times to no avail. Remus had assumed that his unwanted visitor would leave after that, but they seemed to have other ideas, and a hoarse voice called through to him.

“I’m coming in, Moons.”

Remus closed his eyes upon recognising the voice, crumpling in on himself even more than he already had done, feeling his consciousness dragged back into his own body in an almost physical way, violently brought back to reality. He started to feel the panic again.

Sirius stood uncertainly in the doorway, still clutching the door handle in case he needed to escape quickly, knowing that, while he appeared to be mild-mannered, Remus had a vicious temper. Remus knew exactly what the look on his face would be: pity, and so he chose not to see it, instead burying his face even more forcefully into his knees.

“Moony, look at me.” Sirius’ voice was gentle, but worn from the drinking the night before. Remus imagined that Sirius probably felt a lot like he did, but without the terror.

“No.” Remus muttered it rather pathetically, not moving, still hugging his legs to his chest.

“Remus.”

Uh oh, Sirius almost never called Remus his actual name. He was in trouble.

“I’m sorry,” Remus whined to his legs, “it was stupid. Please don’t hate me.” He was fully aware that he sounded very much like a primary school child begging their best friend not to abandon them because they beat them at rock, paper, scissors. He heard Sirius chuckle. Great.

“Ah, yeah,” Sirius started, his voice mocking. Remus wanted to groan again, but stopped himself because he felt that interrupting Sirius’ speech would probably cause him to hate him even more. “About that. Clearly, we can’t be friends anymore, I’m leaving the band, etcetera.”

Remus looked up at Sirius, his eyes narrowed and accusing. Sirius had stepped into the room now, and he was wearing his old pyjamas, the ones he had worn on his first day in their halls with the dinosaur and the beer.

“You’re making fun of me.” Remus noted, and Sirius raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

“Am I? I hadn’t noticed.” He laughed and sat himself down on the bed next to Remus, perched on the edge while Remus was still folded up at the back. “Of course I am, you git. It was me who started it, wasn’t it? There’s no version of events where I could be justifiably angry about this.”

Remus considered this for a few moments, but then shook his head.

“That’s not the point –”

“The point _is_ ,” Sirius interrupted, scooting back a little so he was sat cross legged in the middle of the mattress, closer to Remus now, “That it happened, finally, and now we have to talk about it like mature adults.”

Remus had propped his chin up on the top of his knees again, and felt his lips playing with a smile, but he forced them back down, maintaining his gloomy persona despite the fact that things were starting to look up. “I don’t think we’ve ever been mature adults,” He said quietly, and Sirius laughed. It was a quiet chuckle, warm and private, just for Remus.

“You’re right, we’re more like high school girls.”

“You are, with all those crop tops.”

Sirius laughed, before flipping his hair over his shoulder and speaking in a hugely exaggerated American accent, “as if!”

Remus felt himself laughing now, and he unfolded himself slightly, now sitting cross legged, still up against the wall.

“Look at us,” Remus said, “we still can’t have a serious conversation without you referencing _Clueless_.”

“It’s a masterpiece of a film, that’s why.”

Remus tilted his head, “I mean, I can’t disagree with that.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, Remus looking down at his hands in his lap where he was picking at the skin around his fingernails. He was waiting for Sirius to speak – he always seemed to know what to say, more so than Remus anyway, but upon looking up Remus discovered that Sirius was doing exactly what Remus was. Maybe they weren’t so different after all.

“Uhh,” Remus started, deciding that it was going to have to be him to break the silence that had fallen over them, “So… What do you reckon?” He decided that asking directly would be the best way to go about it – the group chat was still expecting an answer, after all. Sirius looked up at him, his brow furrowed.

“What do I reckon about what?” He asked. Remus cleared his throat, hating the fact that he had to say the words out loud.

“About… us, I guess.” He paused for a second, but continued before he let Sirius respond. “It’s okay if, you know, you don’t want to go there. It was just a drunk, one time thing, I get that. I was just… I just thought we should give everyone else an answer, that’s all.” He was babbling now, the words tumbling out of his mouth, backtracking and doubting himself as fast as he made any progress. Sirius just looked at him, saying nothing for a while, maybe waiting to see just how long Remus could keep going like this. Sirius only stopped him once Remus mentioned them being together potentially harming their chances in the competition.

“Woah,” Sirius held up a hand to silence Remus, “what do you mean by that?” He didn’t seem angry, just confused by the point that Remus was, admittedly poorly, trying to explain. Remus furrowed his brow and swallowed, wringing his still trembling hands in an effort to get them to stop.

“I just, uh, thought that we could get distracted. We only have two weeks to prepare a new forty-five minute setlist, we have new songs to write and you can’t even focus on that _now_ so what would it be like if –” Remus was interrupted by Sirius’ bark-like laugh, short and sudden, but still softer than usual. Still just for Remus.

“Did you ever consider what I might have been focusing on instead?” Sirius shook his head, biting his bottom lip for a moment before tilting his head and looking pointedly at Remus.

Remus frowned at Sirius. He hadn’t really thought of anything past Sirius’ family being what was bothering him, but, now he considered it, Sirius had been having trouble writing since before he knew about Regulus and his band competing against them. But what else could it have been?

“Oh,” Remus said quietly, because he knew.

“Yeah.” Sirius raised an eyebrow and sighed heavily, because he knew, too.

Sirius shuffled slightly where he was sat, getting slightly more comfortable before he began to speak. “It was kind of out of nowhere,” he started, reaching up and scratching the back of his neck, one of his nervous ticks that Remus knew well. “I guess I’d never really considered it before, I’d always just seen you as Moony from down the hall who would always read over my essays if I needed it. I guess it was just something about this place and… I don’t know, I think it was sometime after you brought that guy from G-A-Y home.” Sirius shrugged, but Remus frowned.

“You’re going to have to be more specific about that.”

Sirius smirked. “The one you fucked on your desk that you didn’t stop going on about for a week.”

Remus nodded, “Yeah, that was dope.”

“Please never say dope again, you can’t pull it off.” Sirius held up a hand and gave Remus a pitiful look, like he was a grandparent who had just asked him what a meme was. Sirius laughed, “the worst thing about that whole situation was that you wouldn’t stop saying how good it had been, and then… well.” Sirius’ cheeks went a dark pink, and it was Remus’ turn to laugh.

“Well, now you know how I felt listening to the past four years’ worth of your sex-capades.”

Sirius looked down at his hands in his lap, a smile playing on his lips. “I guess I hadn’t thought about it like that,” he said, “I guess that wasn’t too fun.”

“No,” Remus quirked an eyebrow, “it wasn’t.”

Sirius sat up a little straighter, seemingly convinced that he owed Remus the full explanation of yesterday’s kiss. “Anyway,” he said, “it’s not just that – that just, sort of, woke me up. You’re so talented, your songs are better than anything I could ever dream of writing, and your voice, Moons, your fucking _voice_ – it gives me chills every time you start to sing. You’re so funny but you’re never arrogant and – I don’t know, dude, I just… I just really like you, and I think I always have, I just didn’t want to admit it to myself.”

Remus didn’t know what to say. He had just been bombarded by more compliments than anyone who lived in their flat had ever given him at once, and, worst of all, they had all come from _Sirius_. Sirius, who was always quick-witted and clever, grinning and mischievous. Sirius, who was so beautiful and unafraid of what others thought. Remus could barely comprehend that Sirius would ever look at him twice.

“I can’t believe,” Remus started, shaking his head at Sirius, “that you would say all of that and still call me _dude_.”

Sirius laughed again, then shrugged. “What can I say? I think you’re cute, mate.”

“You’re the absolute worst.” Remus shook his head, a smile on his lips and his voice peppered with a small laugh as he spoke.

Sirius quirked an eyebrow, “so, is that a no to dating me?”

Remus looked up from the mattress and met Sirius’ eyes quickly, having forgotten what exactly they had been discussing in the first place. “Uh, no? Is that an actual offer that I can accept? Because… I think I’d like to, if you’d let me.”

Sirius was grinning again, his expression warm as he reached across the mattress tentatively and took Remus’ hand. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

With those words, and the sudden contact between the two of them, Remus felt a warmth fill his body, something inviting that he felt like he had been missing for his whole life. They sat like that, opposite each other on Remus’ mattress in silence, for a few moments, a small smile that almost matched on each of their faces. It was Sirius that eventually broke it, shuffling a little closer as he spoke.

“I kind of want to kiss you again, if that’s okay.”

Remus felt his cheeks go red, but he giggled, nodding.

“Yeah,” he said, “I think that could work.”

***

“Yes, yes, I know we’re all very excited, but can we simmer down please.” James scolded Lily and the rest of the band with a raised eyebrow and a wave of his hands, stepping up onto the sofa so that he could be even taller than the rest of them than he already was. Lily and Peter had been gushing over Remus and Sirius, the former having enjoyed the attention so much that he had begun to recite a rather spectacular speech, after having announced to the room upon their arrival that they were, in fact, boning now. Or they would be, after this band meeting was over and done with.

James cleared his throat as the room fell silent and they all turned to face him, pushing his shoulders back. The Old General was pretty much a permanent resident in their flat by this point, they hadn’t seen or heard from Laid-Back James in months.

“Thank you,” He said as they all focused their attention on him, “now, as you all know, the finals of the battle are _next Saturday_ , so we need to pull our collective finger out.” James clicked his fingers and pointed at Remus, “have you been gargling warm water and baking soda every day like you promised?”

“Yes, Remus lied. His voice was fine as it was, if anything, gargling shit would make him worse.

James seemed satisfied, “good.” He turned his attention to Sirius, “how’s that song coming along, my dude?”

Sirius shrugged in a hugely exaggerated manner, then stretched his arm out across Remus’ shoulder, barely able to reach due to his lack of height and Remus’ relative abundance. “I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”

James nodded for several seconds longer than a sane man would have. He looked down at his hands for a moment, which were steady, much to Remus’ envy, before looking up at Lily, his eyes holding a note of pleading. “Have you, uh, sent off the merch designs?”

Lily nodded, and took a step forward, taking a hold of James’ hand and dragging him down off of the sofa, before hopping up in his place, but leaving a hand on his shoulder.

“You guys are gonna be great, Remus and Sirius are going to write some bomb-ass songs now they’ve got the sexual tension out of the way, and James can write some mediocre ones that I’m sure I’ll never want you guys to play live. You’re all gonna do amazing and you’re probably going to win, let’s be real. You’re up against _The Death Eaters_ for fuck’s sake.” She sighed loudly, glancing down at the still very pale James and squeezing his shoulder slightly. “I believe in you all, and I love you all too, I guess.” She rolled her eyes.

“Love you too, Lils.” Sirius said, his mouth curled into a lop-sided smile, “best manager we could ever have asked for. Once we win this bitch we could even start paying you!”

Lily quirked an eyebrow, “That would be nice.” She stood a little straighter, which was hard for such a short person, before clearing her throat and speaking again. “Now, my useless boyfriend here had made you all fully detailed schedules for the next fortnight, down to the minute, but that’s dumb.”

James looked up at her accusingly and opened his mouth to speak, but Lily held up a finger to silence him.

“You guys need to keep stress levels down, and not to mention I am not having, and I quote, ‘quick missionary sex to make more time for drum practice’.”

James and Lily had some form of staring contest for a few moments, and it looked as if James was having a gargantuan internal conflict, before he finally conceded and looked back down at his feet. Remus looked down at Sirius, who was trying extremely hard not to laugh, and the two made eye contact for a few moments, before Remus had to look away in case he actually started to snort.

“Fine,” James said, “The schedule can go.”

Lily clapped her hands together, hopping down from the sofa cushions, her sock-clad feet making a soft thud as she landed. “Right, I think the band meeting is done, then. Practice tomorrow, lads, don’t forget.”

The group turned to leave the room, heading towards the corridor as a quartet, before they were stopped by a small voice clearing their throat.

“Uh, do I not get a job?” Peter asked, standing a little forlornly by his futon, his eyebrows raised and his hands bunched up inside of him sweater sleeves. He shifted a little where he stood, and the other four band members turned to look at him. Remus felt a little embarrassed that he had forgotten Pete was even there.

He looked so sad, and Remus was struck by the fact that Peter must have felt left out of so many decisions in the past few months. He was always at work during meetings, always too busy to write songs or do anything but learn those written by other people. It was a wonder that he was still there.

“Oh, Pete,” Lily said, her voice faltering a little as she looked down at her feet for a few brief moments. She drew in a breath before answering him. “I think you’re doing pretty good as you are.”

“But I’m not doing anything,” he said, “I’m free now, I have time to write songs or help with the setlist or even go out and buy replacement strings and shit. Just, you know, give me something to do.”

Lily wrung her hands together, licking her lips with a guilty look in her eyes as she seemingly attempted to find something for Pete to do, but she appeared to come up empty. “Sorry, Peter, I think we’ve got everything covered.”

***

The week passed far faster than either Remus or Sirius could have ever anticipated, and soon enough they were less than seven days away from the finals. James had become increasingly feverish, locking himself in his and Lily’s room whenever he wasn’t in the living room, banging senselessly on his drum kit, seemingly attempting to work out some of the tension he was feeling. Peter had gone mostly AWOL, and would only return home for band practice, where he explained that he had been hanging out with his teacher friends, planning lessons for the new school year, which was still several weeks away. Remus found this explanation fishy, but didn’t want to say anything that might cause unnecessary conflict, especially so close to the most important gig of their lives.

Remus had had perhaps the most bizarre week he had ever experienced. Being able to call Sirius his boyfriend felt like some sort of dream, not to mention actually being able to kiss him. They had barely been able to make it through their first shag without laughing, it seemed so stupid for them to be doing it. Suffice to say, they had made it over that hurdle rather quickly. James had complained about having to invest in earplugs.

Sirius had finally gotten out of his song writing slump, finally revealing that the song he had been struggling to write for so many weeks was actually a love song, which was pretty obviously about Remus, even if Sirius didn’t want to fully admit it. He had named it _Moonbeam_ , and told Remus this as he handed over a lead guitar part for him to learn. Remus laughed.

“That’s subtle.” He reached across and ruffled Sirius’ hair where he sat next to him on the sofa, his acoustic bass in his hands. Remus scooped his guitar up from the floor and propped it on his knee, balancing the paper on the sofa between the two of them. He began strumming the chords that Sirius had scrawled in his cursive handwriting, and Sirius joined in, improvising his bassline as they went, Remus singing the lyrics that Sirius had taught him previously.

“Sounds good, lads.” James said as he came into the living room, stopping in the doorway. He observed them for a few moments before moving over to his drumkit and joining in, playing a steady beat over the top, just enough for the song to be danceable.

Once they reached the end, Sirius was grinning, and immediately began scribbling notes down on the paper between him and Remus, seemingly happy with the song that the three of them had come up with.

“Once we get a keyboard part from Pete this’ll be golden.” James stood up from behind his drumkit, stretching his back, before placing his sticks down on the snare drum and stepping out, moving over to the sofa and perching on the arm next to the other two boys. “Proud of you, bro, you wrote a fucking banger.”

Sirius squirmed as James caught him in a mock headlock, rubbing his fist on the boy’s head for a few moments before releasing him. Sirius righted himself, pulling at his plaid shirt to ensure he looked presentable and flicking his hair back over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t say it was a banger.”

“Yeah,” Remus pulled a face, “maybe a jam, though.”

“I was thinking a bop.” Sirius and Remus both looked at each other, wearing similar looks of mock deep thought, pausing for a few moments before speaking in unison.

“A tune.”

The two of them laughed, and James joined in, shaking his head. “You two are the worst. I thought the fact you were dating now would make you more bearable, but it’s the opposite.”

Sirius gave James a cocky smile and leaned over to put an arm around Remus’ shoulders, before winking. “So naïve, Prongs, you should have known there was no way I could ever get _less_ annoying.”

“The only way is up.” Remus agreed solemnly, shaking his head at James. “It’s very unfortunate for all those involved.”

James was trying very hard not to look happy, but his smile won over in the end and he leaned over to ruffle Sirius’ hair again. “I can’t stay mad, you guys are too cute.” He hopped up from the sofa and stretched, before heading out of the room, calling behind him. “I’m going out on a run, Lils will be home soon.” He paused in the doorway and leaned against it, looking at Remus and Sirius as if they were something small and cute, like a puppy or a particularly tiny cactus. “I love you guys.”

Sirius barked a laugh and waved a hand as if to shoo James away, retracting his arm from around Remus’ shoulder and standing up. “Go on, go away.”

James held up his hands, his eyebrows shooting up as he backed out of the room, “Okay, I’m going, I’m going! I can’t help it though, Pads, you know I love love.”

They heard the front door slam a few moments later and they were left alone, Sirius standing in the middle of the living room and Remus curled up on the sofa, his guitar propped next to him. Sirius moved over to the wall, leaning against it in the spot where a TV probably should have been if they could have afforded one, and looked at Remus, a sudden concern gracing his brow.

“You _did_ like it though?” He asked.

Remus looked at Sirius, a quizzical look on his features. “Like what?” He countered.

“The song,” Sirius explained, “you weren’t just saying you liked it because James was here?”

Remus laughed, pushing himself up from the sofa and making his way over to the wall next to Sirius and taking his hand, leaning so that their shoulders touched. “Pads, you know I loved it, I think your songs are amazing – always have.”

Sirius looked down at their entwined hands for a few moments, before looking up into Remus’ face and smiling. “Thanks, dude.”

Remus laughed again, this time lighter than before, and leaned down so that the two boys’ faces were only a few inches apart. “You’ve really got to stop calling me dude.”

***

 _Number One Remius Shipper_ to _World’s Greatest Indie Pop-Rock Four Piece_

_J – todays the day_

_P – Dude it’s seven in the morning?_

_J – ye pete i know im fuckin bricking it_

_J – assume u are too bc ur also awake_

_P – Nah mate this is just my teacher body clock it’s a fucking curse_

_J – why r pads n moony still asleep_

_P – IDK maybe they just have normal human levels of anxiety about these things_

_J – unrealistic_

_J – should i wake up lily_

_P – NO_

_P – JAMES_

_P - …_

_P – You did it, didn’t you? That was what that yelp was_

_J – [skull emoji]_

_P – Dude maybe………… calm down. U seem to have a lot of pent up tension abt the show_

_P – Judging by your scream anyway_

_J – i am………………………………………….. fine_

_P – You just walked into the living room crying_

_J – that wasnt me that was the Ghost_

_P – We don’t have a ghost, Prongs_

_J – ye we do it’s the ghost of a very sad indian boy who just wants his friends to succeed_

_P – You and this ghost seem to have a lot in common_

_J - ……………………………………………………… shut up_

***

 _[Pan not gay]_ to _World’s Greatest Indie Pop-Rock Four Piece_

_S – OMG did Prongs actually cry_

_J – PADFOOT ur awake_

_S – This isn’t answering my question_

_J – no_

_P – Yes_

_[Definitely gay] sent a GIF_

_R – u can’t just deny oprah the truth guys what happened_

_J – i was VERY emotional OKAY_

_S – OMFGGGGGGGGGGGGG_

_S – It’s gonna be fine Prongs lmao_

_J – it wont be if u guys just stay in bed all day_

_S – Soz Prongs we have to get in our scheduled boning time before rehearsals_

_R – hes joking i wanna nap_

_J – u just woke up?????_

_R – best time to nap my friend_

_J – no. u are getting up n showering n then we are REHEARSING_

_J – we have to be at brixton at 5 n its already 1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

_S – Dude our set is pretty short we’ll be Gucci_

_J – SIRIUS_

_J – can u just do this one thing for me_

_J – just. do as i ask for once_

_J – please just get up so we can practice n i dont have an ACTUAL meltdown_

_S – OK moons just went to shower we can rehearse soon_

_J – thank u_

***

The taxi ride from the Marauder’s flat to Brixton was spent in a chilly silence, where Peter’s heavy breathing and the sound of James’ bouncing leg were the only things contributing to the empty atmosphere. Remus was clutching Sirius’ clammy hand so hard that his knuckles were white, and he had a sickly feeling swimming in his stomach that was not adding anything to his pessimism.

“We’re going to be terrible!” James exclaimed suddenly, around ten minutes into their journey, making Lily almost jump entirely out of the fold down plastic seat she was perched on across from Remus. “This is too much, there’s too much pressure! I’m going to be off beat and I’m going to fuck everything up.”

Remus noticed Sirius avert his eyes as he noticed James was beginning to cry - probably a part of the pact they had made in first year to deny the fact that either of them ever showed emotions. Lily reached across the gap between her and James and patted him on the knee uncomfortably, and he gave her a slightly watery smile, before dissolving into sobs once more.

“I’ve ruined our careers, we’re going to embarrass ourselves beyond repair!”

Sirius looked up into Remus’ face for a few moments, his eyes screaming ‘help me’, before he turned to his best friend, eyebrows raised in what he seemed to hope would be a comforting expression. “Prongs, mate,” he started, sounding a little unsure, but trying desperately to help, “we’ve not even done soundcheck yet, don’t go deciding our fate for us now.” He held up his hand, which Remus was squeezing so hard he was sure that Sirius had lost blood flow. “We’re all nervous, we all feel like we’re going to fuck up, we just have to support each other and realise that nothing we’re going to do today is ever going to be as embarrassing as that video of Pete doing the _Little Mix_ dance that got retweeted twenty-five thousand times.”

James gave a weak laugh, but seemed to sit up a little straighter, dislodging his glasses on his nose as he wiped the tears from his face. “That’s true,” he said, a little meekly, “remember that teenage girl who wanted a selfie with him because she recognised him from Twitter?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Peter interrupted them bitterly, his arms crossed across his chest and a sour look on his face, “it still got us five thousand new followers, though, so was it really embarrassing?”

Sirius pulled a face at Pete and made a loud, high ‘hmm’ noise for a few moments before saying shortly, “yes.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Remus said pointedly, throwing Sirius an exhausted look and swallowing the feeling of anxiety that was dancing in his throat for as long as possible. “The point is, we’re all going to do our best and we’re going to be as good as we can be. This is just another gig, okay?”

James nodded again and sniffed loudly, before his face cracked out into a grin once more. “You’re right, we’re going to kill this.”

“Fuck yes,” Sirius shouted, “Who’s the world’s greatest four-piece indie pop-rock outfit?”

The others looked at Sirius concernedly, genuinely considering whether or not he actually wanted them to reply. His shoulders dropped and he held up his hands, raising his eyebrows and saying in a whine, “Guys!”

There was a collective sigh followed by an extremely unenthusiastic reply of, “we are.”

“That’s right,” Sirius said, lifting an eyebrow in James’ direction, “and don’t you forget it.”

The car pulled to a stop and they all got out and hung around on the pavement outside the venue, waiting for James to pay the driver, before they watched him drive away. They stood, huddled, outside of the O2 academy, none of them making a move towards the doors.

“So,” Lily said.

“Yeah,” Remus shifted his weight between his feet uncomfortably for a few moments before linking his arm through Sirius’ and pulling him close to him, feeling very cold despite the fact that it was the height of summer. Sirius looked up into Remus’ face and gave him a weak smile, the edges tinted with just a hint of the anxiety that Sirius was so desperately trying to hide.

“Let’s go in.” Sirius said it with so much confidence that Remus was almost fooled by him, but Remus knew that under the surface Sirius was terrified. Not only because it was the final, but because he had to speak to his brother.

The prospect had seemed to daunt Sirius a little less of the last few weeks, after what Regulus had said at the semi-finals it seemed as if it was going to be less of an argument and more of a reconciliation, however Remus knew that anything in connection to Sirius’ mother terrified him. Sirius had quickly changed the subject whenever Remus had brought it up, only ever addressing it with sarcastic quips and flashy grins. Remus was worried.

They entered the venue and signed in, before being escorted backstage to the same dressing room as usual where they dumped their instruments and collapsed down into the five brightly coloured plastic chairs, still in a resounding, chilly silence. Remus looked around at them all, observing the fear that was clearly present in every other person’s eyes in the room, and felt a little relief from the fact that he maybe wasn’t the only one who was going to be on the verge of a panic attack on stage tonight. They sat quietly for a few minutes until an assistant popped her head around the door, a headset squashing down her dark afro and hiding much of her chin behind a large black microphone. She gave the boys a smile before she spoke.

“You guys are sound checking first – could you follow me onto the stage, please?” She started back out of the room, before reappearing again, “Oh, and bring your instruments, obviously.”

Sirius caught Remus’ eye for a moment and gave him a weak smile that barely lasted a full second, before pushing himself up and out of his chair. The others followed him, allowing Sirius to lead the group out of the room and to the stage, where they plugged in and set up their instruments while the executives and organisers bustled about below them on the venue floor.

“You guys are on first tonight, eight-thirty start, okay?” One man in a suit asked James, who was standing at the front of the stage, tapping his drumsticks feverishly on his legs. James almost physically jumped when the organiser spoke to him, but managed to maintain his composure somewhat.

James nodded to the man and swallowed hard, and Remus could almost see him start to scream internally. “Yeah,” James laughed, his voice unusually high, “cool.”

They played through _I Solemnly Swear (That I Am Up To No Good)_ as a sound check with only minor mistakes – James missed the beat a few times and none of them had done their vocal warmups yet – and left the stage feeling decidedly more confident that they had been feeling before. There were only two bands playing in the finals, _The Marauders_ and _The Death Eaters_ , so there was no chance of them avoiding Regulus and his bandmates as they passed them in the corridor as they made their way back to the dressing room and _The Death Eaters_ made their way to sound check. Sirius stopped dead in his tracks, as did Regulus, who, Remus noted, was a good deal taller than Sirius, but shared the same handsome features, although with a distinctly darker look.

“Sirius,” Regulus said, his voice flat – almost completely unreadable. It was impossible for Remus to tell whether he was upset or happy to see his brother.

“Reg.” Sirius spoke shortly.

The corridor felt icy – the silence falling over the two brothers chilling their bandmates and causing them all to stop and stare. Remus felt uneasy.

“Uh,” Regulus said, glancing back at _The Death Eaters_ ’ manager, who was skulking behind them, scrolling on his phone, before making eye contact with Sirius, “we’ve got to go set up, but can I catch you after? We’ll be, like, half an hour at most.”

Sirius made a noncommittal sort-of grunting noise and shrugged his shoulders, sliding his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket casually, trying hard to come across like he didn’t care but only succeeding in the opposite. “Sure,” he said.

Regulus nodded a few times, before Bellatrix rolled her eyes and fixed Sirius with a dark glare, grabbing Regulus by the arm and almost dragging him off down the corridor and towards the stage.

Sirius stepped back to let her past, and suddenly there was a grin on his face – an opportunity to annoy one of the members of his family that he hated the most. He waved after her, calling out.

“It was lovely to see you too, Bella!”

She didn’t turn back to look at him, but as she, Lucius, Regulus, and their manager turned through the doorway to the stage area they heard her call back to them.

“Go fuck yourself, Sirius.”

***

“How much longer do you reckon they’re going to be?” James was pacing up and down in front of the mirror that hung on the far wall of the dressing room, running his hands through his hair like a madman. Sirius had been gone for an hour now, and all of them were starting to worry.

“Don’t worry about him, Prongs, it’s not as if Reg is going to murder him or anything.” Peter said, rolling his eyes, not even bothering to look up from his phone. James stopped his pacing and held his hands out towards Peter, looking indignant.

“Don’t say that! I hadn’t even thought of that!” James started his pacing again, this time almost twice as fast, muttering under his breath. “Their manager is in with some dodgy-ass crowds, what if they’re literally going to murder our chance in the competition? We’re nothing without Sirius, he’s all of our sex appeal!”

Remus’ brow creased as he frowned in James’ direction, “you do know that, like, sex appeal isn’t that important to a band’s success, right?”

“Don’t be stupid, Moony, no one would buy Arctic Monkeys’ records if Alex Turner wasn’t so hot.”

Remus shook his head; he wasn’t in a good enough headspace to argue with James about this right now, and, besides, he had had Alex Turner as the background on his phone for a good portion of their time at university, so he really didn’t have a leg to stand on. Instead, Remus stood up and moved over to where James was pacing, grabbed a hold of the boy and gave him a light slap on the face.

“Pull yourself together, dude.” Remus fixed the now still James with a glare, “Sirius is _not_ going to be murdered. You’re overreacting just like you were before dissertation hand ins. Remember, when you printed out twenty copies just in case you lost one, and then realised you had typos and had to print them all again?”

James nodded, looking resoundingly glum, but still tried to protest. “I was being cautious.”

“I don’t give a shit about dissertation-gate right now, Prongs. Get a fucking grip, we’re on in two hours.” Remus rolled his eyes at James, feeling bad about having to be rude to his friend, but knowing that this was the only way to drag him out of one of these kinds of moods. Peter still sat silently in the corner.

James nodded, and Remus finally let go of him, allowing him to go about with his pacing again, before going to sit back down on his blue plastic chair. Remus spent the next fifteen minutes picking at the bobbles that were appearing on his old, green jumper, until someone came through the doorway.

James turned around quicker than Remus had ever seen him move before, shouting Sirius’ name with a grin on his face, which immediately dropped straight from his features and shattered when he realised it wasn’t him. “Oh,” James said, dropping his arms.

“Charming,” Lily raised an eyebrow, before reaching up and brushing her hair over her shoulder and holding up the large paper bag she was holding, “Nandos, anyone? And _yes_ , I got your veggie shit, Moony, before you ask.”

The four of them dived into the takeaway bag and took out their food, James showering Lily with apologies and affection as he did so.

“Please stop, James, you’re going to make me vom, I’m trying to eat.” She rolled her eyes at him, holding a chicken burger in one hand, but she leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek between bites anyway. James shut up after that, shovelling chips into his mouth as if it was going to be the last meal he would ever eat.

“Do I smell the sauce of the gods, peri-peri?”

Sirius sidled into the room with renewed swagger, his hands in his pockets and a sly smile on his face, and headed straight for the bag of food, pulling out a burger and a container of fries before heading over to the desk that Remus’ chair was set next to and perching on it. He unwrapped the burger carefully and began to eat, fully aware that everyone was watching him with expectation, and clearly enjoying it.

James’ mouth was hanging open, and a limp chip was gripped between his fingers, halfway up to his face. He seemed to have forgotten that he was eating. “ _So_?” He asked, his voice once again reaching ridiculously high pitches.

“What?” Sirius shrugged, casually placing a fry between his teeth after he spoke.

Remus rolled his eyes, and hit Sirius on the knee lightly with the back of his hand. “Oi, drama queen, what happened with you and your brother?”

“Oh yeah, that.” Sirius feigned surprise, as if he had no idea why the others had been so concerned. “Nothing much, we just had a little chat. Turns out he’s not that much of a dickhead anymore. We’re cool now, unless they win at which point I’ll never speak to him again.”

James nodded, “that’s fair.”

“ _Really_? That’s _all_ you’re going to tell us?” Lily asked, “You just made up with Regulus after fucking five years of conflict and you’re just going to say ‘yeah, we’re cool’.”

“Uh, yeah, Lily,” Sirius frowned at her, “because, last time I checked, this was my family drama, not yours.”

Lily’s mouth hung open for a few moments more as if she was going to try and counter Sirius, but then decided against it. Sirius had a point, the others had barely been involved in his conflict with the rest of the Black family, so what right did they have to hear about it? They only knew small fragments of the reasons that Regulus had turned against Sirius in the first place, so Remus couldn’t imagine that whatever conversation the two boys had had over the last hour would have made an awful lot of sense to them. Maybe it was best left in the past, especially if all parties were willing to move on. Remus decided not to press it further.

“How are you feeling about the set, Moons?” Sirius asked pointedly, as if he was trying to make it as painfully obvious as possible that he wanted the subject changed.

Remus looked up at him and pulled a face, “I’m feeling a lot of things, most of them bad, some of them good, and some of them that I can’t entirely place on a spectrum of positive to negative.”

Sirius nodded, “same, to be honest.” He took a bite of his chicken burger, but continued to speak as he chewed, holding the rest of the burger in front of his mouth in an attempt to make what he was doing somehow less gross. “It’s gonna be okay, though. We’ve already got this far – we’ve basically won already with the amount of publicity we’ve got.”

Remus nodded, because it was true. The competition had been covered in great detail in _NME_ and a few other big music magazines, as well as being live streamed online. _The Marauders_ had gained several thousand followers, a few of whom were the accounts of minor record labels and radio stations, so it looked as if they were going to get offers as soon as the competition was over. The prospect of that both terrified and excited Remus in equal amounts. There was nothing he wanted more than to be in the music industry, but with that came being in the public eye, which was something he could really do without.

***

Two hours later the four boys and Lily heard an announcement over the tanoy, giving _The Marauders_ their five-minute call for the start of the show. It was at that moment that Remus’ previously rather optimistic heart turned to stone and dropped right out of his arse and onto the floor, where it shattered into a million tiny shards.

Panic gripped him tightly by the arms and shook him around, churning up his insides and making him feel suddenly violently ill. His skin crawled, like a million tiny pins and needles running up and down his arms, which felt cold to the touch despite the fact that he felt so warm, and that there was sweat pouring down the back of his neck. His breath had caught and he couldn’t seem to get any air into his lungs, he’d forgotten how.

“Moony?”

Someone was trying to speak to him but he couldn’t tell who, the panic was too intense, so absolute and all-consuming that he was completely shut off from everyone and everything in the outside world.

“Moony, are you okay?”

Remus heard it that time, and shook his head quickly, but then stopped abruptly, feeling dizziness overwhelm him. He gripped the arms of his plastic chair like a vice, so tight that his knuckles went white. He felt a hand on his arm and shook it off violently. Being touched felt strange, like it wasn’t really his own arm they were touching.

 _Fuck_ , he realised, _I’m dissociating_ , _like, properly dissociating_.

He hadn’t done this since university.

“We don’t have time for this, we need to go on!” Remus could hear James yelling somewhere off in the distance.

James was right, as insensitive as he was being. They had to go on. They had to play their set and win the battle of the bands. But Remus couldn’t move his fucking legs, because right now they didn’t feel connected to him at all.

_For fuck’s sake._

No. He wouldn’t let this defeat him. Remus concentrated on his breathing for a few moments, drawing in a long, deep breath and then blowing out slowly through his mouth, closing his eyes and allowing himself to concentrate on the feeling in his arms first, releasing his grasp on the arms of the chair and stretching out and curling up his fingers a few times. He stayed silent for a few moments, breathing deeply and allowing the feeling to flow back through his body.

The voices around him started to come back into focus, and he could hear Sirius talking seriously to one of the organisers, begging them to just give them a few more minutes, that their frontman was having an anxiety attack and they needed to make sure that he was alright. The organiser didn’t seem convinced, and was telling them to get out and onto the stage at that moment, so Remus opened his eyes and cleared his throat, pushing himself up and out of the seat despite the fact he still didn’t feel like himself.

“I’m okay, I can go on.”

Sirius looked around at him, frowning, concern in his eyes. “Are you sure, Moons? You don’t look good – we could ask for them to let Reg go on first?”

Remus held up a hand to stop Sirius’ protests, and nodded. “I’m good, let’s go.”

They walked on stage to thunderous applause, the loudest that they had ever gotten. People had made banners to show their support, and Remus could feel a lump growing in his throat and tears welling up in the corners of his eyes as he read them over the heads of the crowd, but he forced himself to keep it together as he addressed them down the microphone.

“Alright, Brixton?” He gave them his best Sirius-esque sly grin, and tried his best to try to not appear like a boy who had just been hyperventilating a minute ago in his dressing room. “We are so very, very happy to have you all here for the most important gig of our lives, and we can’t wait to share this night of wonderful music with you all, from us and from our competitors.”

There was a cheer from the crowd and several people waved signs with _The Death Eaters_ ’ emblem, a skull with a snake in its mouth, before putting them down again. Remus cleared his throat and licked his lips, which felt exceptionally dry. “Anyway,” He continued, “we hope you have a wonderful evening, this is a song that was written by our bassist, Sirius,” Remus gestured to where Sirius was stood, doing his best Flynn Rider smoulder for the audience, “it’s called _Moonbeam_ , I hope you enjoy it.”

James counted them in and they fell instantly into the beat, playing the song better than they had done before, and Remus suddenly felt gripped by hope. They could actually do this. They could win. He grinned as he sang Sirius’ lyrics down the microphone. God, they sounded good.

The set flowed perfectly, everything going right in the way that it always did when they had been so terrified before. They always doubted themselves, but _The Marauders_ were a team that would never fall, they trusted each other entirely, and wove together like cloth. There was no way that they could fail if they put their minds to something. Once they reached their final song, _I Solemnly Swear_ , Remus was on the brink of tears, but this time from happiness.

The set ended and they left the stage, feeling more elated than they ever had done before. They could just about win this, as James told them so once he had detached himself from Lily’s mouth in the dressing room ten minutes later.

“I mean it, guys,” James pressed on, his face flushed and his hair sweaty, “I think we might have done it.”

 _The Death Eaters_ ’ set was starting over the speaker system, but James turned it down until they couldn’t hear it, and moved around the room, giving every member a hug individually.

“I’m so proud of you all,” he said as he cupped Peter’s face in his hands, “You did wonderfully.” He pulled Peter back into him and ruffled the shorter boy’s blond hair.

“Get off,” Peter laughed, pushing James away, “you didn’t do so bad yourself, mate.”

Sirius took a deep breath and swung his arm up and around Remus’ shoulder – though he could barely reach – and pulled him down to him into a sort-of sideways hug. “We all did good, I’m proud of you, Moons, you overcame a fear today.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, slapping Remus on the back, “You showed that panic attack who was boss.”

James nodded, “Congrats, dude.”

Remus shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious that they would focus on that, but grateful all the same that they were proud of his progress. “Thanks, lads.”

The wait for the result was almost excruciating; once _The Death Eaters_ ’ set had finished there was a thirty-minute intermission where the judges were to decide the winner, and James got so agitated that Lily had to take him outside. Remus had achieved some sort of otherworldly sense of calm, where he somehow felt absolutely nothing about the outcome. Somehow he knew, whatever the result they got that day, they were going to be okay.

Sirius was gripping Remus’ hand and muttering under his breath, clicking the fingers on his spare hand feverishly. Remus would have told him to stop but he knew that if he did Sirius would want to try to talk to pass the time, and Remus really wasn’t in the mood for that. Peter was doing what he always was – scrolling down his Twitter feed and ignoring them, and probably bitching about them in his teacher group chat.

Soon the assistant was back, flashing them all her pretty smile and escorting them to the stage, where the members of _The Weird Sisters_ were speaking to the audience, and announcing the bands onto the stage.

“Give it up for your first finalists, _The Marauders_!” Myron Wagtail shouted, holding an arm out and indicating to them as Remus and the other boys walked out onto the stage, receiving a huge amount of applause from the audience, which made Remus’ heart swell again. “And _The Death Eaters_!”

Regulus, Bellatrix and Lucius came out onto the stage from the other side, and the two groups stood and waited for Myron to announce the winner.

“This competition has been so close, all of the bands who have competed have been amazing, but now we’re down to only two,” Myron said, “and only one can headline _The Order of the Phoenix_!”

There was a cheer from the crowd at the mention of the band’s music festival, which was drawing ever closer, before Myron held his hands up to hush them.

“Anyway, without any further bullshitting, we want to announce that the band we have chosen to headline our festival, the _first ever_ band to headline our festival is –” He cut off, and the tension in the room was tangible. Remus felt like he was going to be sick. He wished that Myron would just tell them already.

“ _The Death Eaters_!”

***

A month had passed since the finals of _The Weird Sisters_ ’ battle of the bands, and _The Marauders_ were doing well for themselves. The summer break meant that they had more time to play gigs because Peter wasn’t restricted to weekends and bank holidays, and they had been offered several recording contracts that Lily was currently weighing up the pros and cons of. Not winning the headlining spot didn’t seem to have damaged them much, and, in fact, they were in a better place than ever. They had even been able to get the flat repainted to get rid of the questionable stains on the wallpaper that had been there since they had moved in.

Remus could barely imagine their lives being any better, and didn’t feel like he’d missed much by not winning the headlining spot. James, however, had other ideas. He was not used to losing, and had been wallowing in his and Lily’s room whenever they weren’t on stage, or hosting a party as an excuse for him to get horrifically drunk. It was this behaviour that had made it particularly confusing when James had bounded out of his room, loudly proclaiming that they were holding a flat meeting at that exact moment, because he had exciting news.

“Men,” he said, seriously, and Remus was immediately suspicious at the emergence of The Old General. “We have been handed a golden opportunity. I have just gotten off of the phone with God himself, Myron Wagtail.”

Remus saw Lily’s brow crease as she crossed her arms across her chest. “What did he want?”

“Lily, my love,” James said, tears almost beginning to spill out of his eyes and onto his cheeks, “ _The Death Eaters_ have been disqualified – their manager was, indeed, involved in some dodgy-ass shit, and he and Bellatrix were arrested last night. They can’t play _The Order_. We’ve been asked to take their place. We won.”

An awed silence fell on them, and they all seemed so thoroughly shocked by this news that none of them could speak. It was Peter that eventually broke the silence.

“I mean, technically we still didn’t _win_.”

James gave him a pointed look and held up a hand, “Pete, please, just let me have this.”

The shaken silence returned, the only sound coming from the television that they had finally been able to afford in the living room, until Sirius let out his bark of a laugh.

“I can’t believe Bella’s going to prison, it’s like Christmas has come early!”

***

 _The Marauders_ ’ headlining set at the first annual _Order of the Phoenix_ festival was phenomenal, and was widely acclaimed by music critics around the UK and even abroad. The band were riding as high as the summer sun in the sky, playing gigs and signing contracts and earning more money than Remus had ever seen in his life. It seemed like nothing could bring them down.

But, as the end of the summer called and autumn reared its lazy head, reality struck.

“I’m leaving the band.”

It was a relatively cold evening in early September when Peter Pettigrew had stood in front of the _Gilmore Girls_ rerun that Remus, Sirius and James had been half-watching and announced that he was leaving.

“The music industry isn’t for me, I want to concentrate on teaching.” He said finally, reciting it as if he had been practicing the sentence over and over in his head for a while. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t be here anymore – I’m moving out too.”

Remus didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know why he hadn’t seen this coming. He had always suspected that Peter had wanted to go, but never thought that he would have the balls to do it. Remus supposed it served him right for underestimating him.

“But, Pete –” James seemed lost for words. He sat there, opening and closing his mouth a few times as if he was trying to find the right thing to say, but he seemed to come up with nothing. Sirius stood up, joining Pete in front of the TV and pausing, observing him for a few moments, before pulling him into a hug.

“It’s okay, Pete, you’ve got to do what makes you feel happiest.”

“But –”

“Shut up, Prongs.” Remus elbowed James sharply in the ribs.

“Thanks, Sirius.” Peter mumbled into Sirius’ hair, before releasing the boy and taking a deep breath, standing a little straighter and addressing them all once more.

“You guys will always be my closest friends, but I know I’ll never be one of yours. I can’t live like this anymore, I can’t always be second best.”

Remus shifted uncomfortably. He knew that they had all made Peter feel like shit over the last few years, he knew that Peter had never _really_ felt like a Marauder. It was unfair, really, the way that they had taken him for granted. Remus felt that, on some level, they deserved this.

“That’s fair, I’m sorry Peter, we all are.” Remus said, and he meant it. Peter nodded, but didn’t say anything else, just turned and walked away, not giving them a second glace.

The three boys sat in silence until they heard the front door swing shut as Peter left, at which point James turned to face the other two, his mouth hanging wide open.

“What the fuck just happened?”

Remus swallowed hard, unsure of how to address it. Sirius, as always, had the perfect explanation.

“We’re on our own now, lads, but don’t worry; he was our Stuart Sutcliffe, we just need to find our Ringo.”

James nodded solemnly, but Remus shook his head exasperatedly.

“Do you have to explain everything with thinly veiled _Beatles_ metaphors?”

“Yes, Moony,” Sirius said, sliding his arm around Remus’ shoulder and pulling him down into his chest, “Yes I do.”

James still seemed to be freaking out, sitting on the very edge of the sofa, holding great handfuls of his hair as if he was trying to rip it out. “What are we going to do?” He whispered, almost to himself. Sirius just smiled at him,

“I have no fucking clue, mate, but I have a feeling that we’re going to be just fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have any questions or want to see the latest updates/estimates on when the next chapter will be on the way you can check out my [tumblr blog](http://biremus.tumblr.com) (check out the [Chasing Heaven tag](http://biremus.tumblr.com/tagged/ch) for stuff specific to this fic)
> 
> Leave a comment if you want! I love to hear from y'all


End file.
